


A Little Trouble Goes A Long Way

by Luisa_he



Series: Troubles of the Heart [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, I needed something lovely to cheer me up, Idiots in Love, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Mostly Canon Compliant until Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Mutual Pining, References to Depression, References to suicidal tendencies (nothing major), The Avengers Are Good Bros, There's no real enemy, dad!Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-09-24 20:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 60,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luisa_he/pseuds/Luisa_he
Summary: Roughly a year after being defrosted Steve Rogers had found his routine.He gets up, goes running and takes as many missions as he can, to keep himself occupied.He's very alone though, the Avengers not really more than colleagues, even though some of them try.It's just that he's still mourning the loss of his other half: his best friend Bucky.But loneliness and order are crashed one beautiful morning and Steve finds himself in a little trouble, that he never wants to miss again.





	1. A Little Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic alongside a larger project I do with my best friend. It was just meant to be a drabble to make me write at least a few words every day. 
> 
> It was never meant to be posted; at least not until it's entirely finished. 
> 
> But I've had a terrible day, that followed an exhausting week, in an already not-so-great month. So I felt the need to put something out in the world that's at least a bit cute and happy.  
At least I hope it is. 
> 
> My designated beta is preparing herself for a road-trip so I couldn't bother her to read through it. If you find anything, don't hesitate to tell me - English isn't my first language and sometimes I just don't know better.  
And I make a lot of typos. 
> 
> I hope to update this at least once a week, I can't make promises though, because the next month should get even worse.

With a sigh that rested somewhere between happiness and satisfaction, Steve slowed his pace down and watched the people around him. 

Running at top speed always numbed his mind, allowed him to get lost in his simple observation of his breathing and counting the laps he took. The moment he slowed down his heightened senses began to swamp him with impressions once again. 

But it was better than being delirious from fever, he supposed. 

Before the serum his eyesight had just been good enough to justify not wearing glasses - not that he could have afforded them - and now the doctors told him he could see better than the average human. Same was true for hearing, Steve assumed, even though he wasn't sure that he had a deficiency when he was younger. 

He wasn't sure how to classify tasting; the food today was just too different to really compare. 

And smelling, well, it had to improve with the variety of allergies missing, that had always clogged his nose. 

Steve eventually slowed down to a stroll through his Brooklyn neighborhood. It still felt surreal how it was so different but in a way, still the same. 

He figured that same was true for him. 

For a moment he considered grabbing a coffee at the shop that was only a few blocks away from his apartment, but taking in the busy streets he decided otherwise. 

He had come back from a mission rather late the night before and therefore slept in this morning. It was still early, especially if you asked Tony, but there were already too many people out and about, jogging, walking their dogs or heading to work early. 

Coffee he could make alone were he would have his solitude. Here and at the coffee shop people would look. 

At first, it had been fun to watch the expression in their faces change. 

Sure, the discovery that he had been frozen for the last seventy years and that he now was back made the news, but apparently nobody expected to actually _ see _ him.

Mostly it started with appreciating glances from the bottom to the top - from both men and women - that had made Steve force down more than a few blushes. Afterwards came the slight feeling of recognition, while they tried to figure out why exactly he looked familiar. And at last it were the shocked faces of those who actually could figure it out, that he was, in fact, Captain America. 

However, it went from funny to annoying really fast.

Someone bumped into him, head down, gaze focused on their feet. A female voice uttered a faint ‘sorry’ before she hurried on in the other direction. Steve looked after her, but she didn't turn around again while she fled down the street. 

While he continued on to his place he thought about his day. 

There was no mission, and he wasn't really in the mood for training - before he hopped on the homebound jet yesterday he had done his fair share of fighting, so maybe a day of rest was in order. 

He could dig out his sketchbook or his colors and paint a little.

And he still had his lists of movies to watch and books to read. 

If he called Natasha, would she be interested in coming over for a movie night? 

Probably not. 

Steve wasn't even sure if she considered him a friend or if she saw him more like a lost puppy that, by accident, knew how to fight. 

With a sigh that, this time, was more resignation than anything else he punched in the code that opened the door of his building before he headed for the stairs, taking two at a time. 

He needed friends, preferably blind ones that didn't realize he was _ the _ Steven Rogers and either asked about how he was adjusting to the massive change of the average everyday life - which wasn’t that massive, if someone actually bothered to be interested in his answer - or they bombarded him with suggestions of what he absolutely had to try. 

It was nice that they cared. Really, he appreciated it, but it was exhausting, too. 

He wasn't as lost as they thought, just lonely. 

Coffee in mind, he took the last flight of stairs, and turned down the hallway to his apartment. Already from there he could see that someone had dropped a package in front of his door and he frowned. The building's policy forbade leaving them in the hallways; they had to be dropped of either with the apartment manager slash janitor that resided on the ground floor or a neighbor. 

Steve's steps slowed down as his mind instantly went into combat mode. From time to time he ran into one of his neighbors. It was possible that word got out that he lived here, even though Shield tried its best to prevent it. 

His mind went blank when a quiet, whimpering sound came from the box. 

_ What the hell? _

Steve hurried over, and crouched down immediately when his eyes fell on the little bundle of pink blankets. 

A … _ baby _? 

Even though he was perfectly aware of the fact the hallway was empty, Steve still looked around, hoping to find the person, the baby belonged to. Preferably someone who actually new _ something _ about babies. 

But no, he was still alone.

For a moment he just sat there, staring in confusion at the box in front of his knees, listening to the sounds the baby made. 

His mind was forcibly yanked back to reality when the baby opened its eyes, looked at him and started to scream. 

Panicking he unlocked to door and carefully carried the box inside, trying to make calming noises but failing spectacularly. 

If you asked him, the screaming only grew louder once he got inside. 

For a moment he considered, to leave open the door for the chance that a parent - or someone, really - would come back and claim this baby, but he'd noticed a letter, addressed to him tucked next to the baby. 

Oh_, fuck. _

Someone had dropped a baby off on his doorstep. 

He sat the box down on the couch in his living room, taking his place next to it. Sweaty hands, he reached for the child, positioning it in his arms like he had seen in movies. His experience with children consisted of holding them during USO tours, where he had been uncomfortable and ready to crawl out of his skin already, without the added responsibility of not dropping one of those tiny little things. 

As soon as he started to rock it, the screaming died down to a soft whimper and he let out a relieved huff. 

Give him arms dealers and aliens, that he could do. But a crying child? 

Eventually the baby calmed down, eyes still focused on his face, watching him intently. Steve tried to smile gently but his feelings were to much of a mess right now.. 

Could babies even detect things like a smile? 

The panic flared in his gut once again. 

Steve shifted the warm weight in his arm and he involuntarily had to smile. It was cute how the little head peeked out from between the blankets, especially with the pink hat on top. 

With his free hand he reached for the letter he had spotted earlier and pried it open. It was a little bit more difficult with one hand, but eventually he managed even though the paper was now crumbled. 

The letter was short but managed to wrench his gut.

> _ Dear Mr. Rogers, _
> 
> _I know that dropping Sarah off on your doorstep comes as a surprise to you, but I knew no one else I could trust with her._

"So, you're Sarah," he mumbled and looked down at the little girl - obvious, honestly, if you considered the vast amount of pink - and smiled once again. "I'm Steve." 

He shook his head over his own stupidity. Not like she would understand him if he properly introduced himself. 

> _ She was born only a week ago, but I know, even though I love her with all my heart, that I can't take care of here. The reasons therefor are manifold. _

His brows furrowed with worry. That didn't sound good. 

Steve forced himself to concentrate on the letter, to finish it and then think about it. 

> _ I myself never had a mother, which only added to my decision, but I was raised by a women, kinder than anyone else I’ve ever met. She knew you, a long time ago, and her memories always recalled a kind man, that cared for others and that would someday be a great father. _
> 
> _ It breaks my heart that I can't be there for her, but I don't have a choice but to leave her with you. I don’t want her to get lost in the system neither do I want to leave her with foster families that don't love her. I want her to be loved and it's my last wish that she will be loved by you. _
> 
> _ Sarah is a healthy girl, and I hope you forgive me for what I did. _
> 
> _ I named her after your mother, hoping that you would like it. _
> 
> _ Sincerely, _
> 
> _Someone who knew Rebecca Barnes._

Steve's breath hitched as the information washed over him. His mind raced, and he felt as breathless as he did when he still had asthma attacks.

Sarah's mom wanted Steve to raise her.

She knew someone that he had known before he was frozen. Well enough in fact, that the person allowed herself to make the assumption that he would once be a good father. 

_ Her last wish? _ Ice rushed through his veins and sent a chill down his spine. That sounded horrible and Steve fought the urge to run outside, looking for the parent - mother - again. Was she going to die? Or was it simply how she formulated her wish for Sarah, because it was the last time she saw her? 

But the thing that hit him the most, was her signature, if one could call it that. 

Someone who knew Rebecca Barnes. 

Steve's mind was flooded with memories of a little girl with brown pigtails, chasing after Bucky and him in her flower-dress. He remembered her, sitting on the floor in her room, reigning over her kingdom of stuffed animals and dolls, Bucky and him serving water from cups they sneaked out of the kitchen. 

Little Becca. 

He had considered calling child services when he spotted her first but this changed everything. It was as if a invisible force kept him from doing what he probably should. 

What he knew was _ right_.

But those words were way to powerful. 

With a sigh he put the letter next to him and looked at Sarah. 

Her eyes were closed and her breathing was even and soft, so he assumed she must have fallen asleep while he read. 

Who was she? Was she related to Bucky? Did he knew someone from her family? 

When he first came out of the ice he looked everyone up he could think of - his best friend’s family first. During his childhood they always treated him and his ma as if they belonged. Becca had been like the little sister he never had. 

He missed her only by a few years. He thought about looking up her children briefly, but then decided against it. She may have told them about Bucky and him, but it felt too strange. 

Sarah sighed in her sleep and his focus snapped back to her. 

What was he supposed to do with a baby? His childcare experience was more than limited and he didn't really have the most secure job. 

In terms of bodily harm. He wasn’t concerned that he would ever be without a job if he wanted one. 

With a groan Steve stifled halfway as not to wake her, he rested his head back. 

He needed a plan. 

Wriggling on the couch, trying not to shift her too much, he fished his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants and scrolled through the scarce list of contacts. Considering it would be the easiest choice, he called Agent Hill. 

"This is Hill," she answered after the second ring. 

"Ma'am, this is Steven Rogers." 

"Captain, what can I do for you?" 

He furrowed his brows and watched Sarah for a second. "I wanted to request a longer vacation."

Steve could practically feel her confusion oozing through the line. He had been so eager to go on missions to keep himself busy that this had to come as a surprise. "May I ask why?" 

"Something personal came up." He refrained from telling her the truth; it felt too risky to tell her that a stranger had left a baby in front of his door. 

Agent Hill cleared her throat. "Do you know how long this will take?" 

Eighteen years, Steve thought with a faint smirk. But he couldn't tell her this. 

"A year," he decided spontaneously. Until then Steve would have figured something out. 

"A year?" she repeated shocked. "Director Fury will want to know why." 

Steve sighed. "Tell him that I need a break. A sabbatical, so to speak, to sort out my life." 

Sarah started to squirm in his arm and he rushed to end the call. 

"I know that is unexpected, but I need this time. Fury can call me if he has more questions." With that he hung up on her and shifted Sarah to hold her in both his arms. 

"Okay, princess, looks like I have time now." He grinned down to her.

Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. 

But he still needed a plan. 

What he also needed were a crib and diapers. And food. Would normal milk do?

Steve had no idea and it scared the hell out of him. 

Carefully he placed her on the couch and brought up his leg to keep her from rolling over and falling down. He reached for the tablet computer they had given him after he defrosted. 

Surely the internet would know how to take care of a baby, right? 

There were lists.

Endless lists on the internet and they all told him what he absolutely needed. 

"Fuck," he murmured under his breath before he jolted and looked at Sarah. "Shit, I'm not supposed to curse in front of you." When he registered what he had said he hung his head. 

He was so not made for this. 

Steve forced himself to take a few deep breaths. He could do this.

He was Captain America after all, the man with the plan, who always found a way.

"We can do this," he assured her, his gaze resting at her peaceful face for a moment. 

"What do we need the most?" he asked her, but she remained asleep, which was probably a good thing. 

He found a print out list that wasn't what felt like a hundred pages long but relatively short. Steve hit print and waited patiently before it was finished. 

With a sideway glance to Sarah, hoping that she wouldn't decide to roll over during the five seconds he needed to get the paper from his office, he hastily jumped up from his couch and hurried into the other room, nearly knocking himself out against the doorframe. 

But he made it back to Sarah still lying on the couch. 

Steve snatched the pencil from his sketchbook and crossed out the car seat. He didn't have a car, so he surely didn't need one. 

And what the hell was a Babybjorn?

He looked it up and decided that, for now, they could do without. 

Why did he need a bassinet and a crib? Wouldn't one do? 

Sarah grew restless next to him, picking up her whimpering noises once again and Steve could feel the panic. 

He picked her up and swayed her in his arms, trying to shush her back to sleep, but it wouldn't do. 

Food and diapers, he decided. Those were the things they needed the most and they needed them _ now_. Everything else could be bought later. 

For a moment he put her back in the box he had found her in. Steve hurried to his bedroom, wrenching a backpack and his cap from the closet. 

Frowning he realized he was still in his running clothes, hadn't showered or eaten anything. 

And the coffee was a long forgotten dream. 

A scream from the living room reminded him of the reason why. 

He hurried back, and looked up a shop close to him, before he threw on a hoodie and practically run out the door, Sarah in his arms. 

Steve arrived at the boutique a few minutes after it opened. When he stumbled inside, incoherently mumbling to the baby, the women behind the counter shot him a sympathetic look. 

It allowed him to relax a bit. 

"Hey," he forced himself to give her his brightest smile that sometimes confused people, hoping that it would this time. He needed his excuse to work. "A friend of mine had an emergency and dropped the little one off at my place without anything, really. Could you help me pick out the essentials?" 

Her cheeks turned red and Steve said a little thank you to whatever god was listening. 

"Ehem, sure." She stumbled around the counter, tucking her hair behind her ear. "How old is she?" 

"Only a few days," he answered. 

It made her frown. "Hu, that's unusual. Normally the parents don't part with their children for the first few weeks."

Steve sighed. "I know but it was a terrible emergency and they didn't want to take her." He tried to sound concerned as if there had been an accident or anything. “She’s at the hospital. Germs and everything,” he added. At least to him it sounded reasonable. 

She wasn't convinced but thankfully didn't question him any further.

Steve followed her through the store and watched as she pulled out tons of stuff he was sure was not the essentials but who was he to ask? 

His attention was drawn away from her by the strollers in the back and Steve studied them for a while. 

They cost more than a years rent when he was younger. 

"You need one of those, too?" The saleswoman asked, her voice again skeptic. 

He considered it for a while when his eyes landed on the terrifying mountain of products next to the register. 

He was going to need all of this _ today_? 

"Sure, why not? She'll be around more often." He tried to sound casual, thankful for the fact that Sarah had calmed down for now. "Which one do you think is the best?"

She launched into an explanation that blew Steve's mind. It was strollers, not rocket science, for God's sake. 

He ended up buying the most expensive one, because it was the safest, had the best test ratings and he could take out the top so he had a bed for her to carry her around. 

It was a logical decision. 

As were the onesies with the rabbits, if someone asked him. 

Sarah would surely need a change of clothes, wouldn't she? 

The saleswoman helped him to properly place Sarah in the stroller before she rung him up. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the sum, but what was he supposed to do? 

Sarah needed this stuff. 

With a smile, as if he wasn't just shopping for the sum that would have fed him and his ma for a few years, adding a generous tip for the woman mainly to keep her quiet, he handed his credit card over. Thank God being shot at paid well enough for this adventure. 

Even though he brought a large backpack and there was room to storage things in the stroller, he ended up walking home, pushing Sarah with one hand and carrying three large bags with the other one. 

Thank God his building had an elevator. 

"Okay, babydoll, let's do this." He smiled at Sarah as he opened his door. "Welcome home."


	2. The Wonders of Parenting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sarah and their first day together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly caved in and posted the chapter yesterday (bad day again) but I managed to wait until today. Still the entire week I was high strung with anticipation, so I really hope you like it. :)

Steve was exhausted. 

It hasn't even been a day yet and he wanted it to end. 

Not his time with Sarah - he already loved her more than anything else - but the constant crying, screaming or his seemingly unbroken cycle of changing diapers, feeding and getting her to sleep. 

Taking care of a baby was a nightmare. And he felt so useless, as if everything he did was just to momentarily ease Sarah.

He imagined even more of a nightmare when you had no clue what you were supposed to do. 

They made it back to his apartment without any problems, where he detached the upper part of the stroller and took Sarah with him to the kitchen. Steve had been awake for a few hours now and he was hungry. His last meal had been nearly a day ago, since he couldn't be bothered with dinner the evening before and went straight to bed the night before. 

But Sarah had other plans. 

While he pulled out the toast she began to cry loudly, harder than he heard so far, her face turning a dark red. His food forgotten, he hurried over and took her back into his arms, swaying in a fruitless attempt to calm her down. 

Instead, her crying only picked up.

It was the first time Steve regretted his enhanced hearing. As loud as it was he supposed his ears would still ring a week from now.

"Okay, tell me what you want and I'll do it," he promised, already sounding desperate. Steve made shushing noises again, but she couldn't be calmed. "Right. You can't talk." 

He sighed and looked at the bags he had deposited next to the door, wanting to sort through them later. His eyes fell on the slice of toast that he had abandoned on his kitchen counter. 

"Are you hungry? I mean you haven’t eaten since you came here." 

Another high pitched scream reached his ear. 

"She still can't talk, Rogers," he reminded himself muttering, but placed her back in her bed to get the formula the woman at the shop gave him. Steve read the instructions carefully and - after burning himself on the hot stove while he tried multitask heating the formula and cuddling Sarah - managed to get a full bottle ready. 

He carried her over to his couch and sat down. How was he supposed to feed her? Were there special requirements he needed to meet? 

Sarah’s hands were balled into tight little fists and Steve decided it was probably best to hold her in one arm and the bottle with the other. He let out a relieved sigh as soon as she started sucking and the cries died down. 

"Huh, told you we'd manage." 

Steve couldn't help but smile at the little girl in his arms. The weight against his skin felt soothing and he could feel the warmth that radiated from her through the blanket. Her face was red and blotchy from crying and she had trouble to continuously suck on the bottle for more than a few seconds, causing the formula to run over her cheeks and chin, but she was beautiful. 

Steve wrapped his arm around her, so that he could hold the bottle with the same arm that held her. With his free hand, he took off her hat and grinned. 

Sarah had a thick fluff of brown hair on her head already, that stuck out in all directions. He carefully smoothed it down. Her eyes were open, though not focused on anything he could make out. They were a light blueish grey color. 

Steve was forced to think about the letter again. 

_ Someone that knew Rebecca Barnes _ . 

If the color of her eyes tilted a bit more to a light grey, they would look just like Bucky's. 

An ache manifested in Steve's chest. 

Surely it couldn't be, could it? 

Becca's eyes had been a dark brown, like chocolate. If Sarah's mom was related to her, than it was more likely that her eyes were darker. And Bucky never had children of his own. Steve knew that. His friend had been too careful.

Steve's focus went back to Sarah when he could feel something wet running over his hand. The bottle rested abandoned at her cheek, droplets of formula running down. He tried to get her to drink a bit more one again, but she refused to open her little mouth. 

"I guess that means you're not hungry anymore." He placed the abandoned bottle on the table and picked Sarah up with both hands. Like an automatism, his index fingers stretched out to keep her little head upright. 

"What do you want to do now?," he asked and stared at her for a second. There was still formula on her cheeks and the top of her blanket was sticky. "How about we clean you up?" 

Steve tried to remind himself that Sarah wouldn't answer him for a while and that there was no use in asking her questions. With a sigh he rested her against his shoulder. This way he was able to hold her up with one arm while he rummaged through the bags for a fresh set of clothes.

He placed her carefully on the mat he had in front of his shower. It was probably the closest thing he had to a changing table. 

Thankfully Sarah was still while he managed to unwrap the blanket and somehow wrangled her out of her clothes, but he was concerned by the color of her face. It was still very red. 

It looked around him for a second, deciding that he could leave her for a moment to fetch his tablet. He covered her with a fresh towel so she wouldn't be cold while he hurried back to the living room. On his way back he already typed in his question.

As soon as he re-entered his bathroom he was met with an awful smell, but a look down at Sarah showed him, that her face was back to normal again. 

Great. So a red, concentrated face meant pooping. Steve made a mental note to remember this and research some more later. 

Maybe he should start working on collecting material on how to take care of babies. 

With a sigh he placed the tablet on the toilet seat and hurried back to get the diapers. 

Steve let out a relieved sigh when he discovered a step by step tutorial online for how he was supposed to change the diapers. 

While he pulled off the old diaper he scrunched his nose in disgust. He had seen and smelled a lot of things during his time in the army and with Shield, but how a person as cute and innocent as Sarah could produce something as nauseating as this was beyond him.

In the bag with the diapers were also wet wipes, which were suggested for cleaning her up. He used them and felt a little bit proud of himself when she appeared to be clean after five minutes. He secured her in place with one hand, while he turned around to get the fresh diaper when something warm and wet hit his skin. 

"Great." He frowned when he glanced at Sarah, looking perfectly innocent while she peed over his hand. A frustrated growl escaping his lips, Steve placed the diaper next to Sarah and went to wash his hands. He decided that, after this incident, it would make more sense to clean her with a wet cloth. He held a towel under the faucet before her returned to her on the floor and started the procedure of cleaning her up all over again. 

It took him another twenty minutes until she was successfully changed and clothed again. The woman in the tutorial had managed to do everything in two minutes. 

He disposed of the wet wipes and diaper with a mental note to take out the trash as soon as possible before he placed Sarah back into her portable bed and brought her with him to the couch. 

There was still the bottle of formula and with a sideward glance to Sarah, who started fussing again, he went to the kitchen to reheat it. 

Feeding her the second time appeared to be easier. Steve rested her in his left arm again and used the right to hold the bottle. For a few seconds Sarah drank before she once again refused to open her mouth around the bottle's head. 

He hoped it wasn’t the taste that made her stop. 

"Got it," he told her and put the bottle down. "Think I can eat something now?" 

It was weird speaking to someone who obviously could neither understand nor answer him, but the need to do so was overwhelming. 

Well, Steve thought with a shrug, at least I'm not using obnoxious baby speech. 

He cradled her upright against his right shoulder and went for the kitchen. His stomach grumbled in anticipation to finally receive food. 

He threw the bread he had pulled out earlier in the toaster and flipped the switch on his coffee machine. Automatically, while he went about fixing himself a late breakfast, he rocked Sarah up and down, mumbling incomprehensible words directed to her. She made a burping sound and Steve felt something warm and wet prickling down his shoulder. 

He pulled her away from his shoulder, holding her up with both hands. Formula was trickling down her mouth and formed bubbles on the corner of her mouth. A quick look back confirmed that she had in fact just spat her breakfast over him. 

"Really?" He sighed and reached for the wet wipes he had placed on the kitchen table after he'd changed her. "Come on, I'm really trying my best here", he muttered under his breath while he cleaned her up. 

He briefly considered changing her again, but discarded the idea when he remembered that he hadn't that much clothing for her, yet. And the tiny little spot the size of a pea surely wasn’t concerning. So he finished and put her back into her bed. 

"I'll go and change real quick, okay?" he explained to her before he hurried into his bedroom. Finally stripping out of his running clothes he decided that he couldn't throw the shirt into the hamper without at least wiping it down, he threw on sweatpants and another shirt and ran back into the kitchen. 

Sarah's eyes were closed and her breathing had evened out. 

With a relieved sigh, Steve decided that this was probably his only chance for breakfast. Or lunch, he thought with a quick look at the clock. He watched her while he ate his pile of toast. 

Her tiny mouth formed an 'o' and her fists rested close to her head and he wondered if she could dream already. 

If so, what would she dream about? About her mother or maybe even about him? 

Continuing to shove dry toast in his mouth, he headed to his office and retrieved a notepad. While he drank his coffee, he began noting down all the things he needed to research, including the things on the list of essential he didn't know. 

Steve managed to finish his meal and clean up the kitchen and Sarah was still asleep. 

Could he dare to take a shower? Even though he had taken it slow on his morning run today, he could smell himself and that was more than gross. 

He decided that a quick hop under the spray would have to suffice and he carried her with him to the bathroom. His enhanced hearing would pick up the faintest sound she made, wherever she was in the apartment, even through the water's noise and he would know when she needed him again. 

But better safe than sorry. 

Still, he decided that five minutes were enough and leaned over her bed in concern while he toweled himself dry. 

Was she supposed to not wake up from the noise? 

Towel around his hips, Steve rested as still as he could and focused his hearing on her. 

Sarah's heartbeat seemed normal, as far as he knew, same as her breathing. It was slow and even so he figured that she probably just slept through his shower. 

He hurriedly got dressed again before he took her back into the kitchen. 

"Okay, what now?" 

Sarah continued to be blissfully asleep and Steve's glance fell to his notepad. He definitely needed a strategy for this. 

Steve picked up her bed and carried her to his office. While the tablet was nice for a quick research, he feared this was more extensive and he preferred his stationary computer to do so. 

His fear was confirmed when he noticed the sheer avalanche of information that appeared on the screen. 

Had babies always been this complicated? 

For a second he considered calling someone - anyone really, who probably knew more about this whole baby stuff than he did. But then the letter came to his mind again. 

Even if there wasn't the slightest chance that Sarah was connected to his lost best friend, she was now his and he would take care of her. If this meant he had to learn fast and as much as he could now, then so be it. 

His friends probably wouldn’t call child services on him, but he didn’t want to take the risk.

He looked at her little frame, covered in a onesie with rabbits and swore that he would read through every single one of those lists and articles if he needed to. 

While the diaper changing tutorial had been helpful, the woman in front of the camera hat explained, that the steps she showed were just for the normal scenario and that irritations and other problems could demand for more steps. So Steve decided that was probably the most urgent point to research. He found a list that explained these additional steps expansively and even though he committed it to memory instantly, he made sure to print it out, too, so he could always look it up.

The mentioned products he noted down on an extra shopping list. 

Feeding was the next point he looked up. His research told him, that the formula would do for now (it had to, since he obviously couldn't really breastfeed her) and that burping it up after feeding was considered normal, too. Apparently they sold special burp cloths for this reason. Steve didn't quite understand why a towel wouldn't do, but since he clearly wasn't an expert, he noted them down on his shopping list, as well. 

He was astonished to see another handy print out, that told him, Sarah would only need a few drops of formula over the next weeks, until her stomach was able to hold more.

“I sure hope you don’t starve,” he commented with a sidward look in her direction. 

Oh, and also he printed out a list of food that babies ate during their first year, as a precaution before he moved on with his research. 

His pile of printed information rose in height at a frightening pace, just like his shopping list grew longer and longer by the minute. 

Steve was still surprised how many things were needed for a baby. How the hell did people manage during the Great Depression and war rationing? 

He decided, after the initial two points that working his way down the list of essentials he printed this morning, was probably the smartest way to go about it. 

Steve was still at the first category called 'gear' when Sarah woke up. While Steve questioned the need of a pack'n'play (he didn't really had anywhere to go with her) she began crying again. 

Reassured by his past success of calming her down, he picked her bed up and headed for the kitchen. Her diaper seemed to be okay for now since his enhanced nose didn't pick up anything, so he prepared another bottle - smaller than the last - of formula for her. 

Through her wailing he managed to feed her. He even remembered that he was supposed to encourage her to burp afterwards and used a towel this time - since he didn't have a burp cloth, yet. But she continued to fuss. 

With a frown he decided that maybe he needed to change her after all and went to the bathroom with diapers and the wet wipes. 

Freshly changed into a dry diaper and cleaned up from burping, Sarah still didn't calm down. 

Steve panicked. Did he do something wrong? 

Anxious he debated whether he should do some more research or call someone. 

Maybe Natasha could help? 

He hurried through his living room, headed for his office when he noticed that Sarah seamed to calm down a bit. Testing it, he remained still and watched how her screaming picked up a notch again. When he started swaying she grew calmer but didn't stop entirely. 

A memory came to his mind, Mrs. Barnes singing for little Becca and doing a little dance through the tiny apartment, that had been like a second home for him. 

Steve tried to come up with a lullaby or at least with a song that he thought she would like, but surprisingly the only thing that came to his mind was the dreadful 'Star-sprangled Man with a Plan' the chorus girls had sung during his USO tours. 

With a frustrated groan, inwardly chiding his brain for bringing this up now, he started to hum the tune while he cradled Sarah as close to his chest as possible. 

Her wailing dissolved into quiet whimpers by the time he had hummed the tune out once. Relieved that it was over, he stopped, but Sarah apparently hated it less than he did and demanded more. 

Steve complied, singing this time and again, Sarah stopped to cry and only continued to make small noises. 

By the time he had sung it thrice, she was finally asleep once again and her fist was wrapped around his index with a surprising strength. 

With a smile he returned her to her bed and sat down in front of his computer for further research. 

After another hour, Steve still felt as if he wasn't really making any progress. For every point on the essentials list there were so many options that his head started to spin. 

It wasn't just the color choices that might have been a problem seventy years ago but the sheer variety that frightened him. Technically he knew that Sarah was a newborn and the choice was his but he still asked her about her opinion from time to time. 

There were ratings. People seemed to rate everything. He still wasn't convinced they needed this Babybjorn thing, but the baby wrap seemed to make sense. He could carry her around and have his hands free. There were entire websites dedicated to the question if an actual wrap or the carrier version was better, let alone which specific one to choose. 

Steve added one of each to his cart with a frustrated sigh and moved on to the next point, while Sarah slept next to him. 

As the afternoon continued to educate him and added to his Amazon shopping cart, he could feel his stomach grumble with hunger again. The toast he wolfed down around lunch wasn't really enough to sate him, so he ordered take-out and continued his research. 

Apart from the very complicated baby thing, the twenty first century really had it’s benefits. 

He wanted to cry with relief when he finally moved on from the 'gear' to the 'feeding' section of the list. It had been  _ hours _ . 

Again there were too many choices, but at least with these things he could get help at a store. Surely they would help a concerned single father who's daughter didn't seem to like her current bottles, right? 

With a light frown he leaned back.  _ He was a single dad now _ . 

How the hell did that happen? 

Within a few hours he seemed to have accepted the fact, that not only someone dropped of a baby at his door, but that he was now responsible for Sarah. 

Since this morning Steve’s priorities had shifted drastically and he didn't really mind. 

Who would?, he thought, glancing down at Sarah with a smile. 

He flinched when the doorbell rang, but the little one slept through it. Steve carried her into the living room and joined her once he fixed himself a plate in the kitchen. (He nearly kissed the delivery guy because he was so hungry and the smell that wafted from the boxes was delicious.)

The moment Steve's behind touched the couch, Sarah woke up with a furious cry. He wasn't sure what he had done to deserve this, but his dinner was forgotten immediately. 

"Hey, babygirl, what's the matter?" He kept his voice down and swayed her while he started to single-handedly fix a tiny amount of formula. Thanks to his reading he learned that he actually gave her too much already. 

But surely a healthy appetite couldn’t be to bad for someone as tiny as her, right? 

She drank a few drops before she spat most of it over his shirt again and returned to crying. Sighing he stripped out of his shirt. 

He changed her diaper, which wasn't even wet to begin with, before he started to sing again. 

When that didn't help he pulled up a list with different remedies. One was massaging her tummy in small circles, so Steve started to do it, while keeping up the singing. Thankfully this time another song came to his mind. 

Sarah calmed down a little bit, but not enough that he could let it go just yet. Next on the list was laying her on her stomach, so he laid down on the couch and brought her to rest on his chest. Within minutes she was asleep. 

Steve grimaced at his take-out, that was getting cold next to him. 

Single dad, all right. 

He waited long enough to make sure that she stayed asleep before he brought her to his bedroom and prepared a makeshift baby bed out of pillows and towels so she would stay in place during the night. It was barely even six pm, but for a moment he considered turning in for the night, too. 

Steve might have done it if it weren't for the list of things he had to look up. 

Around eight, after he finished up his cold dinner, he placed his order for the things he had chosen today and that would be weird to buy at a store. 

He had printed out another pile of useful information, including the fact that he was supposed to feed her in two to three hour intervals during the night. With a sigh he turned off his computer and decided to take a quick shower and head to bed, too. 

He was in for a fun night after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think?   
Personally I love Steve and a baby but I would love to hear from you. Maybe leave a comment?


	3. We Manage Just Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sarah day two. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.

The second day rid him of the hopeless feeling that had haunted him before. 

Steve woke up later than usual, which might have been related to him being up to feed Sarah a few drops of formula every couple of hours. Even though the task itself wasn't very demanding - he started reheating the bottle instead of making a fresh one every time - it was exhausting to never get to sleep more than two hours at a time. 

Somehow it reminded him of his old army days, when he and his Howlies took turns to guard their camp at night. 

Steve skipped his morning run, not only because he was still too tired but mostly because he couldn't leave Sarah alone. Instead he hopped into the shower while she was still asleep. 

Their timing was perfect. When he returned to his bedroom, Sarah was just about to start wailing so he picked her up and shushed her while he prepared her bottle. 

During the night he managed to build a routine: feeding her a few drops, waiting for her to burp (with a towel this time) and repeat until she refused to drink. Then he cuddled her for a few minutes before he went to check her diaper. 

He did the same this morning but instead of simply wiping her clean he decided that a bath was in order. They didn't have a special soap yet, so pure water would have to do. Sarah kept relatively quiet during the procedure and, as far as Steve could judge, even enjoyed it.. She was dressed and back in her bed in no time. 

Steve managed to get his breakfast and coffee in, before the doorbell rang. 

A slightly angry delivery boy stood in front of him, gesturing towards the elevator. Steve left the door open as he followed him. The entire elevator was crammed with packages of the stuff he had ordered the night before that thankfully could have been delivered this morning. 

Sometimes the twenty first century was a nice thing. 

To make it easier on the boy he simply shifted everything in the hallway and send him on his way with a gracious tip. 

Even though Steve had his super strength it still took him multiple trips to get everything into his apartment. Ages, honestly, mostly because every time he returned he made sure to check on Sarah.

When everything was finally inside he understood the delivery boy's anger: he was deeply annoyed and hadn't even started to unpack everything, yet.

The first thing he needed to do was cleaning out the guest bedroom he had decided to turn into Sarah's nursery. The walls were a simple white but he was sure that over time he could fix it with nice pictures. He didn't want to paint them while she was here - the fumes of paint couldn't be healthy for her. 

After another round of feeding, burping, cuddling and changing, he started to deep-clean the room and brought the boxes inside. 

Steve was sweaty and exhausted in no time - super soldier serum or not. 

The first thing he unpacked was the dresser slash changing table. He decided to keep the color scheme light and relatively neutral with white furniture and grey and pink accents.This way everything would fit together nicely, would resonate with eventual pictures and paintings and Sarah wouldn’t be drowned in pink. 

And if Sarah absolutely despised in in two years, it was easily changed. 

Steve hated to admit it, but the assembling of the dresser took him quite long; long enough that another baby-break was in order. But then he could put at least a few of the things away, that were scattered around his apartment. There were layouts online, how a changing table was best to be equipped and he followed them down to the last detail. 

Steve willingly admitted, that it made changing Sarah the next time a lot easier. (And he had ordered a so called DiaperGenie that relieved his poor, violated nostrils from Sarah’s diapers.)

After the lunchtime feeding (toast for him and another bottle for Sarah) they took a well deserved break on the couch. His girl had trouble falling back asleep and only cuddling her seemed to be the only remedy. 

During his extensive research he had learned, that 'tummy time' as the internet called it, was important to develop a baby's muscles. So he placed her on his chest again and hummed a tune to calm her down. 

A grin escaped him the moment her eyes closed and her whimpering stopped.

Maybe he wasn't so bad at this baby thing after all. 

He was in the middle of debating, whether he should put the crib next to his bed for the first few weeks or not, when he heard his phone ring in the kitchen. With a sigh he got up and headed over, frowning when he noticed the blocked caller ID. 

That shouldn’t be possible.

"Hello?" 

"Captain Rogers, how nice to hear your voice," Fury said with a very obvious sarcastic undertone and Steve suppressed a moan. 

Sometime last night he successfully convinced himself that Shield's director wasn't interested in the fact that he basically quit his job for a year. Steve had hoped so much to avoid this conversation.

"Director Fury," he greeted him politely. 

"Agent Hill reported a nice chat she had with you yesterday. To old for the job?" 

Steve clenched his teeth. "No, sir. I just requested a vacation."

He could hear Fury snort on the other end of the line. "Two weeks is a vacation. A year is not. So what happened on that mission that suddenly made you give up your shield."

"Sir, I'm not giving up my job. I just need some time off for private reasons." 

Again, Fury made a dismissive sound. "Private reasons? Bullshit. What are those reasons?"

Sarah started to fuss in the living room and Steve knew he had to cut this conversation short. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think I have to explain myself.” Taking a deep breath in he steeled his nerves. This was unsettling. “It is Shield policy to grant extended unpaid leave to active agents, should they request it. I do so now. If it’s not okay with you, than please consider this my resignation. Thank you for your call."

With a slight shudder he ended the call. Surely Fury would send one of his goons to check on Steve over the next few days. He might even come around himself and until then Steve would know better what to tell them or how to justify that he suddenly had a daughter. 

He hurried over to her. "There you are, you cute little reason not to talk to Fury," he said grinning as he picked her up and started the feeding procedure. “You know that I just hung up on the scariest man in the world for you?” 

But he was still a bit shaky and Sarah seemed restless so it didn't went as smooth as it had the last few times. Her spit landed on his shirt again, because she fussed and he hadn't paid enough attention to the towel's position. He found himself bare chested once again as he realized that Sarah's eyelids seamed to drop immediately. 

"Okay, you like skin contact. Noted," he whispered and laid down for a few minutes to make sure she was asleep. 

Then the furniture called him back again. 

It was late afternoon until most of what he bought was assembled and in its proper place. At the end her crib ended next to his bed for now - his second nightstand he never used anyway had to make way for it - even though he was sure that he could hear Sarah's slightest noise, no matter where he was in their apartment. 

Thank you, super soldier hearing. 

But even though he was enhanced, the interrupted sleep and constant listening to Sarah while he put together her room left him exhausted. Yet he knew the day wasn't over. Steve still had to take her shopping. The saleswoman yesterday had only given them the things they would need for one day and he managed to stretch it to two already. They were running low. 

But then again it was astonishing how many diapers you needed over the course of thirty hours.

He waited for the next round of feeding and changing before Steve put her in a warmer onesie and swaddled her in her blanket, following schematics he found online (and had printed, of course). 

Sarah looked adorable and warm in her stroller, but he still worried that it might be too cold for her. He himself didn't really feel the cold anymore. Since they gave him the serum he tended to run a bit warmer than the normal person. 

The worry made him hurry through his neighborhood towards the shop - a different one this time. Steve didn't want to explain to the saleswoman why he was back with the newborn and still had nothing of the stuff he technically should have bought ages ago, if he was expecting a child. 

Sarah slept through the walk and only woke up briefly when they entered and the woman behind the counter came around to take a look at her. 

With a deep breath Steve retrieved his shopping list and they got started. 

He admittedly had a lot of fun discussing the best options for his daughter and selecting between the different designs. Whenever the sales woman called Sarah his daughter his heart did a little flip and he couldn't help but grin. 

Steve overdid it with the clothing - he was well aware of that, thank you very much - but there were so many options and patterns to choose from and Sarah would look adorable in all of them. He compromised with himself and bought a few of them in a larger size.

According to the internet babies grew fast and would need a different size of clothing every few months at least. 

He even bought a fancy baby-phone with a monitor. Better safe than sorry, right? And this way he could watch over her crib even if he wasn’t in the same room. Just in case she did something that didn’t make a noise.

Pacifiers, blankets, rattles, a baby first aid kit, different books (bed-time stories and guidebooks for parenting) - everything landed on the counter next to the check-out. 

Steve had way too much fun and Sarah only fussed for about five minutes. It happened after they were at the boutique for about an hour. He fed her with formula he brought and she quickly calmed down

That the saleswoman congratulated him on being a great dad made him a little bit proud, to say the least. 

With a smirk he thought about Tony while he handed over his credit card to pay. His friend would joke about the 'Depression Grandpa', if he saw that he was willing to spend this much money. 

But it was for Sarah, so - sue him - it was more than okay. 

He was again loaded with bags, his backpack and the storage of the stroller overflowing with their purchases as he pushed her home. The saleswoman had assured him that Sarah was clothed warm enough for the weather and Steve took his time. 

When he spotted a woman jogging and pushing a stroller at the same time it hit him. 

Nobody looked at him with recognition. 

He had been too occupied with the thought of all the things Sarah needed and what she might like, that he never once wondered what the world would think, if they found out that Captain America suddenly had a child. And there had been no phone shoved in his face, yet. 

Yes, he had noticed the saleswoman checking him out, but he had gotten used to it. But he had taken his time and usually after a few minutes it dawned to people that he was Captain America or at least looked like him. 

Steve spent over an hour in that shop and not once did she gave him the 'Oh my god, you are Captain America'-look. 

He glanced at the next window they passed and studied his appearance. 

It was obvious that his last shave had been a few days ago - there wasn't really time for it on missions - and the stubble was slowly forming into a beard. Thanks to the interrupted night there were dark circles under his eyes. With the cap, hoodie and grey sweatpants he wore, he looked very different from his public self. 

And he was pretty sure that, since no one expected  _ the _ Steven Grant Rogers to have a baby, Sarah was a pretty good disguise. 

Grinning he gazed at Sarah, wo was still asleep. "Guess, if looking like a homeless dad keeps me from being recognized, I'll keep it." 

They brought their purchases home and Steve put them away while he waited for Sarah to wake up. 

He sat next to her crib and watched her.

She was so tiny. Steve noticed it whenever he held her. She fit perfectly in the crook of his arm while he fed her with the other one. Steve knew that for the next weeks and months the majority of her days would be spent asleep but he couldn't wait for her to be more active. He wanted to start playing with her, read her books and tell her stories. From his research he knew that it would take a while before she would recognize him, but he was already giddy at the thought, that he would be the first person she smiled at. 

It wasn’t just that, he realised. 

Yes, the images of smiles and laughters, birthday parties and playing ball at the park made his eyes water suspiciously, but he wanted all the other stuff, too. 

Steve wanted those sleepless nights, he wanted stink bombs and tears - he wanted to  _ take care _ of Sarah. 

He couldn’t wait to see her excited about something he couldn’t understand, shaking his head in adoration for the spark in her eyes. There were so many things he was in awe about, that he wanted to share with her. When she was old enough, he would show her how to sketch a person properly and then pin her stick-figures over his desk. 

Steve wanted to watch her grow; worried about her, yet celebrating every milestone be it her first day of school or her first broken heart. 

He wanted this life together with Sarah. 

Barely more than one day and Sarah held his heart firmly in her tiny fist. 

He grinned when she started to fuss, her eyes still closed, but he knew that it was a sign that she would be awake any minute now. Steve went to the kitchen and prepared the tiny amount of formula he wanted to give her and checked the timetable for newborns he had found and pinned on the wall over his coffee machine. They were half an hour late, but that was okay. 

He dressed her in warm clothes one again, but this time he strapped her to his chest with the carrier and grabbed his back-pack before they left for the grocerie store. They had enough formula to last them for months, but Steve had to eat himself. 

With a frown he noticed that the supermarket was fuller than he liked - not only because of the possibility that people recognized him but mainly because he wanted Sarah to stay asleep and away from germs. Hopefully no one would make loud noises and disrupt her. 

Steve knew that newborns shouldn’t be taken out this much over the first few weeks and months, but since he was alone with her there wasn’t really a way around it. Still, he planned to buy as much as he could carry, so they wouldn’t have to come back soon. 

He hurried through the isles, picking enough that it should last him a few weeks; longer even if ordered take-out a few times.

Steve send a brief prayer to heaven for the invention of freezers that would allow him to even store vegetables that long.

He was stopped when a shopping cart crashed into his. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry," a woman to his left apologized, followed by a giggle, but he was too focused on Sarah to pay her any attention. The crash hadn't been that bad, but he had jumped a little. 

Thankfully she was out cold. 

"No problem, ma'am," he answered and was about to continue when she placed a hand on his arm. Steve twinged at the unwelcome contact.

"Such a cutie," she said, only briefly looking at Sarah. Instead she grinned at him and batted her eyelashes. 

Steve felt the tips of his ears turning red. "I know. She's adorable. And such a nice baby." His answer was pointedly, trying to get her of his back. 

Sadly, it backfired. 

"Oh really? So you have a lot of free time on your hands?" The woman practically purred and leaned into Steve. 

He took a step back, checking if Sarah was still asleep. "Not really," he answered, reaching for his cart again. He hated that he could feel the tips of his ears redden. "And it's nearly time for her next bottle, so if you'll excuse us, ma'am." Steve hurried to check out, forcing himself not to look back to see if she followed him. 

He let out a relieved sigh once they made it out of the store and headed home. 

While he opened the door to his building, Sarah began to move and Steve smiled, happy that he got to spend the rest of the day solely with her. 

Or so he thought. 

In front of his door waited Nick Fury; a foot propped against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest and a bored expression on his face. 

That changed rapidly when he noticed the baby that was strapped to Steve's chest. 

"How'd you get through the front door?" He asked instead of a greeting and stifled a laugh at Fury's frown. The director turned around and opened the door to Steve's apartment which in turn made him grimace. 

It was not appreciated that Shield could come and go as they pleased. 

"Take a seat," he told him and headed for the kitchen. While he prepared a bottle for Sarah and put the groceries away, he thought about his explanation for why he suddenly had a kid. 

He couldn't really make up anything so he probably had to stick to the truth. 

Great. 

With a sigh he made his way back to the living room where Fury had made himself comfortable in the armchair, leaving the couch to Steve and Sarah. He took her out of the carrier and placed her in his arm to feed her. 

Neither of them said anything. Steve for his part was too focused on making sure his little one was taken care of properly. 

When he placed her on his shoulder with one of the new burp cloths, Fury let out a sigh and leaned forward. "Care to explain?" 

"This is Sarah." Steve wasn't sure what else he should say, still reluctant to tell the story that someone dropped her off on his doorstep. 

"Let me rephrase this." Fury sounded annoyed. "Why do you suddenly have a daughter?"

He placed Sarah back in his arm and started to feed her again. 

"This is a bit complicated?" It sounded more like a question because, hell, did he want to evade that question.

But again, Fury was Fury and there was no way around it apparently. "Take your time." With a smirk he leaned back in the armchair, elbows propped up on the armrests, folding his hands beneath his chin. 

With a sigh Steve stood and grabbed the letter that he had found next to Sarah. He handed it over to Fury who took it with a frown. 

This should explain enough. 

He watched him read it, the frown deepening, and wasn't surprised when Fury glared at him afterwards. 

"And just like that you accept it and play the daddy?" 

"Yes."

"Why?" 

"Besides that I really love Sarah?" Steve answered truthfully but Fury glared at him. "What was I supposed to do? Call you, so one of your Agents can make her disappear inside the system?" 

"Yes." 

Now it was Steve how glared. "No! I'm not going to do that. I'll keep her and I'll take care of her." 

Fury huffed out a laugh. "And what about your job? In case you haven't noticed: you're Captain America." 

Steve shrugged. "Like I told you. For now, I'll be taking the unpaid leave. If you want me back I would be willing to go on short missions when she's older and I can leave her with a sitter. If not -" He headed for his bedroom, Sarah still in his arms and brought back his shield, handing it to Fury. "I guess then you can paint someone else in red, white and blue." 

Fury actually looked speechless and Steve promised himself a pat on the back later. 

He cleared his throat. "You are aware that, since you are neither a parent, nor a legal guardian, that I could have her taken away."

"Well, then I'm definitely not coming back at all."

The director sighed again. "Looks like I ain't got a chance." 

He stood and headed for the door, Steve following suit to show him out. 

"One year, Rogers. Then I'm putting you back on roll." With a nod he made his way down the hallway. 

"Thank you, sir," Steve called after him before he returned to his couch. 

He laid down on his back, Sarah cuddled to his chest. With a soft smile he caressed the fluff on her head. Her eyes were crunched close and her hand still balled in those adorable tiny fists that were as big as his thumb. 

"Looks like you got me to yourself, babydoll.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? I'd love some comments and suggestions so please, don't be shy! ;)
> 
> And it's kinda late so if you discover any mistake let me know.


	4. Noisy Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month of Steve and Sarah and their first friends drop by.

The next weeks with Sarah went by in a blur of their daily routine. 

Steve got up early again and took her outside for a run, going at a relatively slow pace and pushing the stroller in front of him. 

He managed to multitask making her formula and his coffee so that they could have their first breakfast together. 

Steve had a short panic attack right before he went to bed the second night. During his research he just had discovered that the bacteria in formula, that was only a few hours old, could cause a baby to get sick. And Sarah didn’t have the immune system improving breast milk of a mother. He stayed awake all night and watched her, but thankfully she seemed fine and Steve could relax.

A day later, when he opened his mailbox, he found the best present he ever received: there was a letter, without sender, and Steve opened it far away from her in case it was something dangerous. Turned out, it was a certificate that granted him the legal guardianship of Sarah Rogers. 

Steve was on cloud nine the entire day.

And he had the chance to take Sarah to the doctor the next day. 

Steve had been afraid, to be honest. He wasn’t prepared for these things and feared that it would show. What if the nurses or the doctors figured out that he wasn’t her real dad?

Sure he had the legal guardianship thanks to Director Fury, but that didn’t come automatically with the ability to raise a healthy child. 

Fascinated he watched how fast she grew, marking her weight and height down everyday in a book he bought for this exact reason. 

After breakfast Steve put her down again to sleep so he could take his shower. He had decided to keep the beard since he wasn't working and it appeared to be an excellent disguise, so he had to keep that in order, too. 

The majority of his day was still spent taking care of Sarah and reading up on childcare, but slowly he seemed to get the hang of it. 

He had time to spare now. At least a little bit.

Steve also started learning how to cook proper healthy meals, considering that in three months Sarah would start to eat - well, meals he could mash together. He usually prepared himself something for lunch and ate the leftovers the next evening. It was a challenge, mostly because more often than not, he forgot to buy half the ingredients. 

Steve also had time to sketch and paint again and it was glorious. He could spend hours, his large frame hunched over his sketchbook or in front of a canvas, creating picture after picture of his new favorite inspiration - Sarah. Steve had an entire sketchbook filled with sketches of her sleeping, while being fed, during bath time and in her stroller. Another sketchbook was dedicated to finding the perfect mix of colored pencils to recreate the shade of her eyes. After he found it, he kept note of the slight fading to a more grayish blue. 

Between two afternoon feedings they headed outside again, taking a long stroll through the park. Steve savoured the fresh air and slight exercise of his body. He always hated being confined to his apartment, even when he used to be a sickish kid. 

Before he put her down for the night, he kept up the exercises he was supposed to do with her and shortly after she turned a month she could hold her head up while resting on her tummy and she seemed to recognize his voice when he called from somewhere out of her field of vision. 

It was exhilarating.

He talked to her extensively during their nighttime routine, which mainly consisted of feeding and bathing her. Steve couldn't help himself, but knowing that he wasn't supposed to interact as much during the night as he did during the day, made him want to cuddle her even more before he put her to sleep in her crib.

Afterwards he often went to bed himself and read for a few hours. 

Sarah's first month on earth was commemorated by Steve dressing her in a cute red romper with puffy sleeves and a flowery strap skirt. He even found a hat and a jacket that were the same color as the skirt so she looked even more adorable than ever. 

It was a hustle to get it on her tiny wriggling frame - he was able to convince her by cooing and blowing raspberries on her tummy - but the result was worth the effort.

He took a picture of her, planning to print it and use it as reference for a painting.

The next morning proceeded according to their usual schedule. He had just interrupted his lunch preparations to make a bottle for Sarah, who had woken up a little bit early and seemed to be hungry, when the doorbell rang, followed by a knock. 

Whoever it was, he was already upstairs. 

Thinking that it was most likely a neighbor, he went to open the door without checking (a terrible habit for someone working for a secret agency, really) and a man, smaller than him, pushed past Steve, already talking at high-speed. 

"Weeks!", he whined dramatically, waving his tinted glasses around. "It's been weeks and you don't  _ write _ , you don't  _ call _ , you don't come -" With a jolt Tony stopped his complaining and looked at Steve, mouth agape. 

Steve supposed he made a funny picture, especially since Tony wasn't aware of the recent developments in his live. He wore an apron so he could cook without having to worry about changing his shirt even more (Sarah was a hazard already, so he tried to avoid food splattering) the burp cloth was already placed over his shoulder and, well, yes, there was a newborn in his arm, quietly sucking on her bottle. 

"What is this?" 

Steve rolled his eyes. "This is a baby, Tony." With a smirk he turned his back to close the door. He didn't suppose Tony would leave any time soon. “Tony, meet Sarah Rogers,” he added with a grin. 

"When did this happen?" 

Steve took the bootle from Sarah for her mid-feeding burp and held her to his shoulder, massaging her back. "A month ago, as of yesterday." 

Tony was still stunned. "I mean, I wasn't aware you knew how to make them. Let alone that you knew people had sex in this century, too, with all the fancy toys and -" 

"Oh, come on. Do you really have to talk about this in front of Sarah?" He took Sarah down and gave her the bottle back. 

"Cap, it's not like she understands."

"Still. I don't want you to create bad habits." He scowled at him. "Behave." 

Tony snickered. "Well, apparently the Shield intern who was assigned to your twenty-first century briefing should have behaved better." He flopped down on Steve's sofa. " You know you're supposed to wrap it up?" He nodded towards Steve’s crotch, an unashamed smirk on his lips.

"Thank you, but that has  _ not _ changed while I was in the ice." He rolled his eyes and sat down in the armchair with Sarah. She wasn't drinking as much as usual today.

"So you actually did it at least once this century?" Tony smirked but before Steve could answer he continued. "Without a Mrs. Rogers? How dare you, you naughty one." 

With a sigh Steve leaned back and waited for Tony to finish. 

"Please tell me you at least turned off the lights and did the dirty under the covers." Again he laughed at his own joke. "Was it a fan? Did you demand to be called 'Captain'?" 

Nonchalantly Steve caressed Sarah’s her, pondering whether he should check her temperature and such. 

Tony huffed but stopped. "Okay, this is no fun when you don't react." 

"Thank God. Does this mean you’re finished now?" 

He rolled his eyes. "I'm just surprised that our favorite Capsicle knows how to use his … popsicle." Tony laughed. “But I’m happy, that you finally overcame that threshold to manhood-”

"I don't know how often I have to tell you that I'm not a virgin, but -" he interrupted himself to check on Sarah, "she isn't biologically mine." 

Tony's jaw dropped. "But- Then how did you get her?" 

Steve told him, but Tony's expression didn't change from being stunned. 

"And you just  _ kept _ her?" 

Why did everyone doubt that? Of course he kept her. 

"Yes."

"And you did all of this," he wildly gestured through the room, that showcased that his entire apartment was changed into a baby safe zone, "during the last month without telling anyone?"

Steve nodded. "Well, Fury knows." 

"You told  _ Fury _ ?" Tony sounded, well, furious. 

He shrugged. "Didn't really have a choice. I told him that I would take a sabbatical and he came over to know why. Wasn't hard to figure out." Sarah burped and he placed her on her play math so he could get this conversation over before he changed her. "Actually Fury was very helpful. He arranged for me to receive the official guardianship for Sarah," Steve added with a grin, still very pleased by it. He actually planned to frame the document and hang it over his desk.

"How do you even know how to take care of a baby? You're a hundred years old!"

Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm ninety-four, thank you very much. And I don't understand how my age is relevant here."

Tony snorted. "Did you have any experience with babies from before the ice?" Steve shook his head. "And I'm pretty sure it's only gotten more complicated since then. Do you even know that there are single-use diapers? You don't have to wash them anymore."

"Tony, I've been taking care of Sarah for the past month and everything is fine. We went to see a doctor and he declared her a very healthy baby. We have her vaccinations mapped out for the year to come already and made appointments accordingly." He stood picking Sarah up again. "And if you'll excuse me for a moment; we have to make use of those diapers you mentioned."

Annoyed he went to the nursery and placed her on the changing table. His movements were so practiced by now, that it took him only a few minutes until she was clean. Steve still had hopes for their afternoon stroll, but Tony wouldn't leave just now, so he decided that he could already dress her for later. 

And if it gave him a moment to take a deep breath to calm down, the this was a pleasant side effect. 

It was still a bit chilly for late April so he decided on a long sleeved bodysuit, leggings and a knitted sweater. Before they left he would wrap her up in a warm blanket. 

"Cute. But isn't that a bit warm?" Was Tony's comment on the outfit when they returned to the living room. 

He placed Sarah on her mat again where she could look at the shapes that hung above her. "Nope, it's not. Babies need it warmer than we do."

"And how would  _ you _ know?" 

Steve smirked and went to his office. When he came back he let the huge binder with printed out information and the stack of books he read fall in Tony's lap. 

His friend let out a small shriek when the heavy pile hit him.

"Okay, this is a lot," he admitted. 

With a grin Tony shoved the pile away from him and turned to face Steve. "Now, let’s be serious for a moment. When can I build her a suit?"

A few days later around the same time, Nat dropped by. She didn't even bother to knock but simply barged in while Steve was feeding Sarah.

Steve really had to talk to his friends about the proper procedure of visiting someone, including standard polite conversation such as saying hello and the use of a doorbell. 

"Guess what Stark told me when I returned from my mission?" She sat the bag she brought down next to the door and headed over. With a grin she fell back into the cushions next to where Steve was seated with Sarah. "That you have an adorable little baby girl. Hi, there," she added with a cooing voice, that somehow frightened Steve. 

"How long will she be awake?" She looked up briefly before she returned to make small noises at Sarah. 

"For an hour, maybe. She just took a long nap so she should be okay for now."

"Very good." With a smile Nat took Sarah out of his arm, snatched the burp cloth away and proceeded to feed her herself. 

Steve was speechless and not quite sure what he was supposed to do now. 

"What?" she asked when he wouldn't stop staring. 

With a shrug he headed back to the kitchen to clean up a bit and give Nat time alone with Sarah. When he returned to the living room she was talking in Russian. 

Somehow it was unsettling to see her so relaxed, talking in a sweet voice to a baby.

Steve didn’t dare commenting on it. He had seen Natasha in action more than once. She was terrifying on missions, let alone during press conferences when a reporter with a death wish dared to ask a slightly sexist question. 

He feared, that asking how she knew so much about babies and was so comfortable around them could be seen as a similar offence. But he liked his life right now, thank you very much, and he had no intention of being strangled to death by the Widow herself. 

"Are you teaching my daughter Russian?" he asked instead with an amused smile on his lips and settled in the armchair next to them. 

She grinned. "Sure. Growing up bilingual makes it easier to learn languages in the future." Natashas gaze didn’t rest on Steve very long. It was just a brief movement of her head before she fully concentrated on Sarah again.

"And she'll need to learn more? In the future, I mean." 

Nat nodded. "Of course. Needs to be able to tell all the guys to fuck off." 

Steve sighed. "Not you, too.” His voice was filled with all of his regret over not having normal friends. “Stark already asked when he could build her a suit."

"Oh, I'm sure he's nearly done with it. Last I checked, he tried to make it grow with her." She placed Sarah on her shoulder and skillfully got her to burp before she praised her in cooing Russian. 

Very unsettling.

"Besides, I'm just waiting until she's old enough so I can teach her how to choke someone with her thighs." This was said vaguely into Steve’s direction and the mixture between Natasha’s baby voice and the threat underlying the

Steve groaned and buried his face in his hands. “You can’t do this. She’s barely a month old.”

“Don’t worry Steve, she’ll be fine.” This time Nat actually looked at him for more than a second. “I will teach her all about guns and thigh chokes and how to be a strong, independent woman. Tony will build her the suit, that you surely can’t talk him out off. Bruce will take care of all the geeky science stuff. Clint will most likely get her involved in his shenanigans and Thor will be the vodka uncle, so to speak, appearing once in a while, spoiling her rotten and then disappear for you to deal with the aftermath.”

Natasha sounded awfully please with herself.

Steve sighed. “And what am I supposed to do?”

“Changing diapers?”

“That’s like the first three years?” 

Natasha simply nodded, engrossed in recounting Sarah’s adorable little toes. 

“Three years of changing diapers is all I get?”

Nat shrugged. “You can teach her about boring stuff. Like history and morality.”

With another devilish smirk Natasha stood from the couch, Sarah in her arms. Together they walked over to the play area he had set up. She placed Sarah on her tummy, laid down herself and patiently begann playing with her. 

Steve was overwhelmed by the need to go out and find himself some other friends. Better friends, that wouldn’t wait around for his precious little baby to be turned into an international spy, thank you very much. 

He just wanted her to be normal. Was that too much to ask?

“On another note,” Natasha called over from where she was currently convincing Sarah to reach for some little item in her hands. It looked suspiciously like target practice. “I like the beard. You don’t look so ridiculously nice anymore.”

Steve muttered a ‘thanks’ that sounded more like a question before he looked at his empty hands. 

He was supposed to be taking care of Sarah right now, not standing awkwardly in the middle of his own living room. 

Lunch! He could start preparing lunch. 

“Want some lunch?”, he asked Natasha, who only briefly nodded. With a sigh he headed to the kitchen and started preparations. 

Natasha didn’t even let go of Sarah during lunch, who was apparently exited that there was someone else than Steve fussing over her. 

He felt betrayed and a tiny little bit useless, while he shoved his salat around his plate.

Nat was still happily chattering in Russian, only stopping from time to time to take a bite from the chicken casserole Steve had made. 

After lunch, Sarah fell asleep in Nat’s arms. 

Steve offered to take her to her crib, so she could sleep properly but Nat brought out the most frightening tactic he ever witnessed. 

Puppy eyes. 

The world’s deadliest spy, honest to God, looked at Steve with sad eyes, a trembling lip and pleaded him to have her hold Sarah for just a few minutes longer. 

He had no idea what to do. 

A physical, frontal attack would have been difficult to difficult for him, because Natasha was really good, but thanks to his enhanced strength and speed he would have had at least a chance. 

There was nothing he could do about puppy eyes, though. And he already feared the nightmares that surely where to come. 

An hour into Sarah’s nap, Natasha’s phone ringed. With a sigh she shifted the little bundle in her arms to reach for it. With a frown she got up and headed for the door. “I have to get going, but I’ll be visiting again.” 

Steve got up as well, following her. "Hey, she’s still mine” he protested, while Nat already reached for the handle. “Can I have her back, please?" 

Rolling her eyes, the Black Widow handed Sarah over reluctantly and not without bowing over her little head for a last time, giving her a quick kiss. 

With a grin in Steve’s direction she hurried down the floor. 

When he closed the door he let out a sigh and looked down at his daughter, that he, finally, had to himself again. 

He really did need new friends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had fun writing this chapter. Even though I never used this much cursive before but it's Tony and the way I imagine him, he always talks in "cursive". :D 
> 
> I want to thank @stpaulite for her comment on the last chapter. It should have been obvious to me that a baby's stomach is so fragile, that you can't just reheat formula that's already a few hours old. So thank you again for your help. I appreciate it so much. 
> 
> Writing this I also had to look at cute babies, dressed to the nines. It was a blast and so not helpful for my baby-addiction...   
But I found those:   
Sarah's one-month-celebration dress.   
https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9e/8b/d3/9e8bd32cf7e5f15656537e6b551e58a0.jpg
> 
> And the outfit Steve dressed her in when Tony came around.  
https://i.pinimg.com/564x/74/67/5d/74675d265082ba2551037275234ba2fe.jpg
> 
> To all those who commented on the first three chapters:   
Thank you sooooo much for all the love. I'm having a very exhausting live at the moment and your words make me smile sooo much. It's often the best part of my weekend - and it's motivating. 
> 
> So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well and have a nice weekend. <3


	5. There's Always Work To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year's up and Steve has to get back to work.  
It's a few easy missions with Shield and Nat and then his whole world is shaken once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 23rd September: I added something to make the end of this chapter better. So if you haven't read it yet, maybe you should :) I'm sure most of you will like it

Nine months were over so quickly that Steve was, someone had manipulated all clocks and calendars. How could it have been nine months already? 

He started making different purees every other day, now that Sarah wasn't restricted to only formula anymore. She refused to eat the store bought mush, so she didn’t really leave him a choice. And she liked to chew on apples, even though she couldn't really eat them yet. 

Sara had also started to crawl: slowly at first but she seemed to get faster every day, following him around. It was amazing to watch but also frustrating because once she started fussing, the guessing game begun - did she want to be carried, crawl or something else entirely? She even managed to stand up, fingers clawing in the material of his sweatpants. (The wider sweatpants he was no longer able to wear. Apparently she had enough strength to pull them down and while he knew, that Sarah couldn’t care less herself, it would make for embarrassing situations at the Tower or on spontaneous grocery runs.) 

Steve thought he couldn't be prouder but he knew that wasn't the case. 

After a lot of bargaining Steve resumed training with Natasha and occasionally even Tony at the recently renamed Avenger's Tower when Sarah turned twelve weeks. The books Steve had read claimed his babygirl old enough to be taken outside to meet people in sanitary environments. 

Tony not only did make sure that the Tower was nearly sterile, but he also had insisted to furnish a corner of their private gym as a nursery. This way Steve could work out and keep and eye on her. 

As long as neither of the team stole her. 

Which happened frequently. 

Tony had tried to persuade Steve into moving to the tower with the others, but he refused. He liked them all, but he wanted Sarah to grow up as normal as possible. And as much as he loved how much they all doted on is little baby girl, being raised by the Avengers wasn't exactly normal. 

Still, Tony went overboard and refitted an entire floor just for Steve's and Sarah's use with every state of the art toy. 

Steve had to put his foot down when Tony insisted on trying on the suit he build for her, though. 

Natasha continued to speak to her in Russian, which Steve had come to accept by now. He wasn't sure how he could tell her no and honestly? How bad could it be to speak more than one language from infancy?

Sarah seamed to turn in to the Avenger's unofficial mascot, Tony and Nat already in love with her after their first meeting. 

Clint was extraordinary good and even gave Steve tips. When he asked him how he knew that the frozen pacifier would sooth the pain when she first started teething, he just shrugged and continued to make baby noises. 

He even managed to calm Sarah down after a particularly loud and wet tantrum she threw during a sparring match. Tony, Nat and Steve had been at the gym, Sarah sleeping in her bed when she suddenly started to scream. What followed was a game of ‘pass the baby’ from one Avenger to the next. Steve was at his wit’s end. Then Clint walked in, took one look at her and took her from Steve. Within a minute she was fast asleep again. Steve still wasn’t sure how he had managed it. 

Thor was as boisterous and loud as ever, but Sarah always giggled when he spun her around, Steve watching slightly panicked. He knew Thor wouldn't let her fall, but it looked scary. In his booming voice he told her stories - norse legends, recounts of battles he fought and the occasional tale about his and his (homicidal) brother’s doings - that Sarah couldn’t understand. It didn’t keep him from entertaining her for hours, though. And Sarah followed his gestures completely mesmerized.

Bruce was, as always, quiet. He had introduced himself to Sarah around month four, like he would to any other adult - reaching for her hand and giving it an awkward little shake. At first Steve thought the doctor wouldn't want anything to do with her, but then he sat down and played with her for two hours straight. And even though he was the complete opposite of Thor, Sarah still seemed fascinated. 

Everything was as good as it could be. 

Nat had convinced Steve to join her for an early morning sparring session at the gym when it happened. 

Steve had already worked out for an hour after he put her to sleep in the crib Tony had bought. He did some sprints on the treadmill and lifted weights before Natasha slandered in and asked him if he wanted to sparr.

Even though Steve didn't really pull his punches, Nat was insanely fast and both of them broke into a sweat. They were at it for roughly half an hour before Sarah woke up, but she did it so quietly that they didn't notice at first. 

A "da da" interrupted their friendly match and Steve took a kick to his shin because he was so surprised. 

"Da da!" Sarah repeated, more determined the second time and Steve rushed over to her. She had managed to stand with help of the bed's frame. 

Steve couldn’t help himself but he grinned like an idiot when her little hands reached out for him. It was the best early Christmas present ever.

When they got home that afternoon they baked cookies together - ending in Steve being covered in flour - before she fell in to an exhausted slumber for the night. 

The next morning he was still in such a good mood that he dressed them to go out. He made his way to a mall, Sarah bundled up in her warmest clothes. She seemed to like the trip since she wouldn’t stop to make happy gurgling noises in her stroller. 

In front of the mall there was a tree yard and he let Sarah help him pick a tree and ornaments for their apartment. 

Well, it went as well as he had imagined. Sarah was still way too young to understand the concept of christmas, let alone what to look for in a tree. But they made it work. Basically he just pointed at the trees and waited for her to babble excitedly. Steve bought the one where she seemed happiest. 

He wanted his little girl to have the best first christmas ever, even though she wouldn’t remember.

The ornaments were much easier to choose. Sarah seemed to like everything that sparkled, so they ended up with a variety of sparkling ornaments and lights. Steve decorated the tree that night after he put Sarah to bed. When she woke up the next morning he showed her and instead of going straight for her usual toys, she fascinatedly stared at the light for half an hour. 

The holidays itself where spend at the tower, with most of the team. 

Clint couldn’t join them because he had been sent on a recon mission, but Pepper was there. 

The adults spend Christmas Eve decorating the tree Tony had bought (fancy and tall) and drinking eggnog while watching movies. 

It was so _ normal _. Steve absolutely loved it. 

And it was so much better than his last Christmas, that he had spent alone at home. 

They all prepared a big breakfast the next morning, Sarah right in the middle of all of them. By her constant chattering and giggling Steve assumed that she loved it, too. 

Sarah didn’t really get the concept of unwrapping presents, yet, but at least she managed to chew on the Iron Man action figure Tony had given her along with an Iron Man onesie. He had even brought out the suit he made for Sarah, before Pepper put an end to it with a stern look. 

Pepper, Nat and Bruce had asked beforehand if Sarah needed anything. So his little girl received a bunch of books from Bruce, and clothes and toys from Nat and Pepper. 

Steve wasn’t sure if the “babysitting-coupons” he got from most of them were actually a gift for him or if they wanted an excuse to spend time with Sarah. 

However, they silently had to agree that Thor’s present was the coolest. 

It was a special sort of rock with a glowing mineral inside that Asgardians used as night light. Thor had it made especially for Sarah so it showcased the Avengers’ silhouettes. For the next years earth’s mightiest heroes would watch over her sleep, casting her room in a warm, golden glow. 

They spend New Year’s Eve at home, both of them asleep at midnight after a day playing in the snow. 

The new year came and Sarah kept growing, surprising him nearly every day with new achievements. She could say “Daddy” know - he was very proud - as well as Nat and Tutu, which was what she called Tony. “Hi” and “bye” were no longer a problem, even though she sometimes mixed them up. There was even something he was fairly certain was Russian, but Natasha had been on missions back to back and he couldn’t ask her.

The name she screamed the loudest though was “Ba-e”. 

In late November, when they had done their Christmas shopping, Steve had come across a thrift store, that displayed children’s toys in the window. Usually he would have walked on and ignored it - Sarah had too many toys already with all the Avengers spoiling her - but something caught his eye. 

In the back row, behind various super hero toys and plushies, sat a Bucky Bear, just like the original they produced before he went into the ice. It was a replica, barely five years old, the store owner’s daughter had crafted for her son who - for a few months - loved the Captain America comics.

He knew it was stupid but his heartbeat raced and his palms were sweaty when he slid his card over the counter to purchase it. 

Back home he carefully washed it per hand and blow dried it. Afterwards he sat down on the couch while Sarah took a nap and simply stared at it. 

Steve missed Bucky so much - still talked to him from time to time when he couldn’t sleep at night - and he wished nothing more than that his best friend could meet Sarah. Steve was sure he’d love her. 

Sarah woke with a loud cry, surely because of her teeth, and Steve forgot the bear on the couch. When Sarah found him she wouldn’t let him go for the next week and even then, when _ her _ Bucky Bear wasn’t in close reach when she looked for it, she would throw tantrums of an extraordinary dimension. 

Steve felt terribly guilty, because he didn’t want to project his wishes onto her. 

The others thought it was hilarious. 

So, more often than not, Steve told his daughter about Bucky and their friendship, stories about their comrades and their shenanigans. 

So every time his daughter demanded „Ba-e“ she meant her bear and he had to go fetch it. Especially when they visited the Tower it turned into an adventure, because who had thought that you could lose a bear in so many spots? 

But with the new year also came an itch, that wouldn’t let him find rest at night. 

Fury had graciously granted him a year of paid leave, so he could stay at home with Sarah. This time would be over soon, and by April he was back in action. 

When he last spoke to Agent Hill she told him that he would only be sent on longer missions if it was absolutely necessary. They also offered to provide child care for Sarah while he was away.

That he refused. 

Pepper had offered to watch after Sarah while he was away and he preferred it that way. He knew that his daughter was comfortable around her and if she had to let her out of her sight, there was also Happy who adored the little girl.

The others had offered to step in as needed, too, and he knew that Sarah would be well taken care of.

He only feared that if he left her with Tony he would finally fit her a suit.

Even though he knew he didn’t need to worry, he was afraid to leave her alone and go back to fighting bad guys.

Surprisingly Clint had been the most understanding one of the team. He had listened attentively while Steve had ranted on about his fears. The other man had patted him on the shoulder and told him that only time would make it better. The only thing he could do himself was to call in when he could and try to be as careful as he could. His other option was to step down entirely, maybe oversee missions without the active combat, but the guilt gnawed at Steve as soon as he suggested it. 

How could he sit at home, while others risked their lives? He had been given this body to defend America’s freedom. Steve had been unable to sit at home seventy years ago, when he was in no condition to go to war. Now he could and he knew that he had to do it as long as he was able to. 

Steve wasn’t worried about the missions themselves. Even though he hadn’t been in a real fight for nearly a year now, he trained a few times a week at the tower, went running every day with Sarah and worked out while she played around him. Whenever one of the Avengers could find the time, he would sparr with them. 

He was probably fitter than ever and Nat had mentioned, that his style of fighting had grown more defensive. 

More carefully, as if he suddenly started to protect himself without recklessly running into fights. 

Steve was good. He just didn’t want to leave his girl alone. If he could, he would stay with her and wonder about her growing every day.

The new year went on and soon it was February. It brought match making attempts on Nat’s and Pepper’s side, and a bunch of files from Agent Hill. He was supposed to go through them to be informed about ongoing preparations for missions that might needed him to intervene. 

No one at SHIELD knew of Sarah, aside from Fury, Hill and Nat and Clint. Steve refused to trust anyone else with the knowledge that he had adopted the little girl. 

In his neighbourhood he had always been a recluse and when he grew a beard and changed the route of his morning run, no one had openly recognised him as Captain America anymore. 

Tony had Jarvis monitor social media and so far no one had told the world. 

Officially he lived in D.C. Agent Hill had provided him with an apartment that was suitable for his SHIELD pay grade and set everything up. 

Steve went there from time to time, usually in the mornings, to go for a run around the Washington Monument. He took a jet Tony offered him to use, sneaked into his apartment, shaved and went for a run. 

He even stopped for a few people that asked him for autographs and pictures and now no one even suspected him to be the bearded dad that jogged through Brooklyn. 

All was good.

And he now had a reason to come back home after missions.

With nearly a year, Sarah had started teething and kept him up more than his fair share of nights. He froze tons of cucumber slices for her to chew on, before he threw them out because they were too mauled to actually eat.

She had started crawling, and soon became a little troublemaker he had to chase around the apartment or the Tower. 

When he came into her room in the mornings, Steve found Sarah standing in her crib, holding herself up on the bars. 

Even her first attempts at walking went well - two weeks before her first birthday she managed to pull herself up with the help of the couch and walked over to Steve, who sat on the armchair. It was only a few steps, but Steve celebrated it as if she had run a marathon. 

Sarah had giggled when she reached him and he had swept her up. It was as if she knew he was having a bad day and tried to cheer him up.

March 10th. 

He once used to love this day. Bucky would always be giddy with joy over his own birthday. Winnifred, his mum, always put together a huge feast, forcing them to take care of the leftovers for the week to come. 

There never had been that many presents - neither of them could afford it - but they always tried to do something fun. When they were still in school they went to amusement parks or even to the movies once. Later Steve gave in and let Bucky drag him around Brooklyn’s dancehalls.

They finished thawing him at the end of may, so even though he missed his friend, he didn’t have to sit through his birthday, questioning himself and why he was still alive, the first year. Last year, Steve briefly considered drinking a bottle of whiskey, but since he couldn’t drown his sorrows in alcohol, he skipped it. 

Around noon thankfully a mission came in and he was gone for a few days. 

This year he had promised himself to solely focus on Sarah, but when he woke up to go for his morning run, he found himself to be in a particular bad mood. 

But then his little angel walked to him, a bit wobbly but no less proud, and he actually managed to smile.

Her birthday came too soon for Steve’s liking. 

He had wanted to do something special with Sarah. It was her first birthday, and even if she wouldn’t remember it, Steve felt the need to make her day extra great. He wanted to have tony of pictures he could show her when she was older. 

It was Pepper who had the idea. 

Tony had recently refurbished the pool, that sat on one of the Avengers’ training floors. They held the party there, with a cake that wished her a happy birthday and all her friends - even Thor had come from Asgard. 

Steve had made sure to buy Sarah floaties and a seat that would allow her to sit while in the pool. He was scared, to be honest, but hoped she would like it. 

He put her to bed earlier that night because she was so exhausted. 

Sarah had absolutely loved it. 

Steve knew that she enjoyed water from their evening baths, but actually playing in water had been even more fun apparently. Sarah had squealed and giggled nearly constantly the entire afternoon. 

His friends used Sarah’s birthday as an excuse to spoil her even more than usually. Even Happy had trouble fitting all of her presents into the trunk of the car. Most of it was toys, clothes and books. Nat has given her a collection of fairy tale movies - in Russian. 

Steve had rolled his eyes but thanked her nevertheless. 

She grinned and took Sarah from him, coaxing a few Russian words out of her.

Mid April brought a call from Director Fury himself. He ordered him to D.C. for a quick mission in Florida. 

SHIELD had gathered all the necessary intel aside from how many opponents there were. That’s what they needed him for: a single agent was far less noticeable than an entire team. Steve would go in, secure the place and wait for the Strike Team to take the arrested subjects to an airfield. 

It was an easy mission.

For cover reasons he took Tony’s jet a day prior - Sarah was with Pepper, who had taken a day off to spend with her - and stayed at his “apartment”. In the morning he went for a long run, making sure to be seen. 

He went to the new Shield headquarters as if he worked at his office there every day. If he made it seem normal, everyone else would think so too.

After lunch he met with the Strike Team for preparations and the mission went quickly underway. 

They were back at the headquarters a few hours later. 

Steve’s plan was to stay a second night, go for a second run and then take the jet back to New York.

The next day though, everything went wrong.

He had a chat with another veteran after his run, when a text came in. Steve was needed for a rescue mission and Natasha would pick him up. Everything was very last minute. 

They were briefed on their way to the kidnapped ship, rescued the hostages and Steve caught Nat downloading confidential SHIELD files. 

His day got worse when he went to confront Fury about it.

Steve was furious about the discovery, that SHIELD built weapons of mass destruction in the name of the greater good.

He went to see Peggy, hoping it would calm him down, it only confused him more. Neither the visit at the VA, he had met Sam Wilson earlier that day on his run, could help him sort out his mind.

Was it time for him to retire? 

Sarah surely wouldn’t mind if he always had time for her. But soon enough she would start kindergarten, followed by pre-school and school, leaving him alone in his apartment. 

And did he really want to do a different job? 

The thoughts plagued him on his way to the SHIELD apartment. He dreaded going up there, wished that he could just return to Brooklyn, but the plan was to stay another night and be seen on another run. 

Accepting the fate of a too quiet and too orderly apartment he went inside. 

Steve had a brief chat with his neighbor Kate, even invited her to a coffee. The first stroke of suspicion hit him when she told him he left his stereo on.

He never even used that thing. 

Entering through the window, Steve made his way into the apartment only to find Director Fury relaxing in an armchair in the corner.

That was shortly before his life went to hell. 

No one was that fast!

No one but Steve should have been able to catch the shield but the shooter did.

Who was he and why the hell was he so strong?

“Bucky?” 

No. This couldn’t be.

A picture took over his mind: his best friend desperately holding on to the debris of the destroyed freight car. The railing breaking of and Bucky falling to his death.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

Steve knew, that Sam meant well. 

But Bucky was Bucky. 

He was his best friend, his rock, his other half and of there was a slight chance that his Bucky was still somewhere inside the Winter Soldier, Steve would take this chance. 

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.”

“You are my mission!”

The struggle was visible in Bucky’s eyes and Steve submitted himself to the pain. He couldn’t fight anymore - not when he would have to fight Bucky. 

His thoughts wandered to Sarah. His heart ached at the thought that she would grow up without him because, whom was he kidding - Bucky would kill him. But Tony and Pepper would take her in. She would have a family and the rest of the Avengers, who loved and cherish her and she would grow up to be a smart and strong woman. 

Soft music was the first thing Steve noticed when he woke up. 

He didn’t know the song but it sounded nice.

It cost him a considerable amount of strength to open his eyes and he found Sam sitting next to his bed. 

“On your left,” he joked, referring to the day they met on their morning runs.

Sam smirked. “Welcome back, Cap.” 

Steve shifted uncomfortably so he could face his newfound friend. “Any news?” Speaking hurt a bit but Sam would know what he meant.

“Steve.” His friend sighed. “I don’t think now is really the time.”

“Sam.” Steve tried really hard to sound like the commanding Captain America.

Sam shook his head but complied. “They don’t know where he is. There were a few beaten up HYDRA goons Fury’s trusted men took in for interrogation. Most of them didn’t speak yet, but apparently it was your buddy.”

So that meant Bucky wasn’t under HYDRA’s control anymore.

Pulling a dying Steve from the river was one thing, but beating up the very same men he was supposed to obey? Something must have come loose during their fight or when they crashed into the Potomac.

Because now he could hope.

The moment he wanted to ask Sam whether he was up to chase down a deadly assassin, the door to his room was opened by a security guard.

The guard stepped aside and in came Pepper and Tony with little Sarah on his arm.

“Daddy,” she screeched and reached for him. 

Carefully Tony positioned her next to Steve on the bed and she immediately crawled to his head to plant a wet kiss on his cheek. 

“Hey, baby girl,” Steve whispered, his voice still strained. “Have you missed me?” 

“Yes!” She answered wholeheartedly cuddled into his side.

It hurt terribly, Sarah’s weight pressing into his injuries, but he wouldn’t trade it for a minute.

“Sarah, honey,” Pepper intervened, “your daddy is hurt. Maybe you could be careful when you cuddle him?” 

His girl nodded seriously but only wrapped tighter around him. 

It was the best medicine, if someone bothered to ask Steve.

“So, how did you get here, baby girl?” Steve tried to sound cheerful. If Sarah didn’t realise how bad he was hurt, than okay. He didn’t want her to be confronted with it just yet. There were missions in the future and someday he would have to explain the nature of his job.

When she was old enough to understand, thought.

“Tony’s plane,” she explained and performed a flying motion with her hand.

Steve nodded. “Was it nice?” 

Sarah’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she launched into a lengthy recount of all the thing she did and saw while on the plane and Steve relaxed into the pillows. 

Everything was going to be good.

* * *

Two weeks later, Steve and Sarah returned home to their cozy apartment in Brooklyn. 

Pepper and Tony had come down to D.C. again, to help Steve with Sarah. They brought the SI jet and Steve didn’t have to take a commercial plane with a toddler and hooked up on painkillers. 

It was around noon when they finally arrived in front of their door, Happy helping him to carry Sarah’s belongings upstairs. 

His little girl had finally nodded off in the car and was fast asleep. With a groan Steve bend over her crib, carefully laying her down. He knew that if he took her to his bed with him, he would never get the sleep he needed for his injuries to heal quickly. 

Changing into soft sweatpants and an oversized Avenger’s shirt Nat had bought all of them, he was ready to hit the hay and sleep off the medication. 

There was a rustle in front of his door, something or someone stumbling against the wall. 

Steve walked to the door, wanting to ask if he could lend a hand, when a knock sounded. 

The frown he carried opening the door, made way as his jaw dropped. 

This couldn’t be true. He had to be at the hospital, still under from whatever they pumped through his veins. 

“Bucky?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm very sorry that I didn't post yesterday. I honestly have no idea where I'll live by the end of next week or what I'll do for the next six moths. So I'm sorry if I'm late again.  
I have most of it written, so it's just uploading it .
> 
> On another note:  
I loved your comments on the last chapter. They really lifted my spirits.


	6. The Missing Piece of the Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shock - the man in front of his door, resembling both his best friend and the man that had tried to kill him. Will Steve let him in - into his apartment, into his and Sarah's mind, into -?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! I added about 200 words to the 5th chapter a few days ago, so if you haven't read them yet, maybe you should. It made the chapter sooooo much better in my opinion.

“Bucky?” 

The name fell from Steve’s lips in a quiet whisper as he took in the man in front of him. 

Steve had just put Sarah down, ready to take a nap on the couch himself, when he heard some sort of struggle on the floor, followed by something that resembled a knock. 

Without knowing who it could be (maybe a neighbor, that needed help) he had gone to open the door, only to come to face his beaten up best friend. 

He wore a sweatshirt, its hood pulled over a cap that shielded his eyes. His jaw was covered in a dark stubble but the eyes...

Steve would know these eyes everywhere. 

When Bucky swayed on his feet their last encounter two weeks ago came to his mind. Simply out of reflex, Steve took a step back into his apartment, ready to slam the door shut.

But Bucky didn’t mean to attack him. 

With a groan he broke down and fell to his knees, before Steve managed to get a hold of him. His own healing gunshot wounds ached with pain and forced a harsh breath out of his lungs. 

Breathing hard he managed to drag him inside and carefully placed him on the couch. 

Steve noticed that Bucky’s right arm, the one that wasn’t metal, hung from the couch in a weird angle. 

Was it possible that it was still dislocated from their fight? After two weeks? If so, Bucky had to be in so much pain and putting it back in the socket could probably knock him out. Again, if he woke up before Steve could get his hands on it.

Decision made, Steve started to carefully strip Bucky out of his jacket, relieved that he only wore a short sleeved shirt underneath. He wouldn’t have to move him to get this off as well. Pulling the sleeve up should be enough to give him access.

He got the pain killers from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and checked on Sarah. She was still fast asleep, exhausted from their flight back to New York in the early morning.

He threw Bucky’s jacket in the hamper. It was covered in dirt and grime and, surprisingly, blood.

He had obviously changed clothes sometime during the last two weeks - the combat gear gone - but if possible, he looked even worse than he had back then. 

Back in the living room, Bucky was still unconscious, a fact Steve was grateful for. This was going to hurt either way and he rather have his friend not experiencing it entirely. 

He shuffled him around on the couch, so his back was relatively straight - not that it was completely possible for men their build - before he maneuvered his arm in the right angle.

Steve braced himself for the attack that was most likely to come.

Breathing out he pushed the arm back where it belonged and fought down the nausea the sound caused him. 

He had been right.

The pain was enough to pull Bucky back to a somewhat conscious state and he threw himself at Steve.

He managed to deflect the left arm, hoping that the right hurt too much to use it. Pushing him back into the cushions, he tried to hold him down.

“Bucky!” They struggled and his friend flinched when he tried to use the right arm. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s me.” 

It took a minute but eventually Bucky’s eyes focused on Steve’s face. 

“Steve.” His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it in a while, but it still sounded like a hopeful whisper.

“Yes, Buck. It’s me.” He held him upright on the couch, kneeling in front of him and ignoring the pain bearing the weight of his friend caused his stomach. 

Bucky tried to reach out to him with his right arm, groaning at the pain.

“Bucky, wait,” Steve chided him and reached for the painkillers and the bottle of water he had prepared. “Here. Take these.” 

They were specially made for him. The doctors had explained that, even though his body would ward off any infection, he wasn’t shielded from the pain a life threatening injury would cause - nothing he didn’t knew already. But two weeks at the hospital had been enough for them to start little experiments. Those pills had the highest dose they were willing to give him, hoping that his metabolism wouldn’t burn through them within minutes. 

So far it worked well enough. 

Bucky eyed them suspiciously and Steve understood. Who knew what Hydra hat put him through? He could guess, but the haunted look it Bucky’s eyes assured him, that drugs had been part of whatever they had done. 

Suppressing a shudder Steve realised, that it had been one of the nicer things, most likely. 

He took one of the pills and popped it into his mouth, screwed the lid of the bottle open and drank a bit of the water.

“I’m trying to help you, Buck,” he added in explanation. 

Bucky nodded and took the other pill. Steve frowned when he watched his friend empty the water immediately.

“When was the last time you had access to proper drinking water?” 

Bucky simply shrugged, grimacing at the pain it caused him and looked at the empty bottle in his hand. 

Steve used his chance to take in his features up close. 

He had noticed in D.C. already that his hair was longer, but while it looked relatively clean the first time their paths crossed, it was now dirty and tousled. There were faint scars on his temples and dark shadows under his eyes. The scruff on his cheeks wasn’t enough to hide how sunken in they appeared to be. He was broader than he used to be back in the day, but he hunched his shoulders now, lacking the confidence that had always been his trademark sign. 

Did he look older because of his current state or would he look older too, when he was clean and well rested?

And he still didn’t know if the blood was Bucky’s or someone else’s. 

This man was, in a way, Bucky. But Steve feared that in so many others,he wasn’t.

“How about you get cleaned up? I’ll give you some clothes and then I’ll make something to eat, okay?” Steve waited patiently until finally, after minutes, Bucky nodded. 

He checked on Sarah again, the struggle hadn’t been loud enough to wake her up. But she had turned over on her tummy, clutching her bear close, Steve noticed with a wistful smile.

In his bedroom he pulled out sweatpants, underwear and a shirt. He brought them into the bathroom and placed them next to the sink with a couple of towels. 

Bucky was still seated on the couch how he left him, his gaze focused on his feet. 

Steve cleared his throat and waited until he looked at him, trying to smile reassuringly. 

“I laid everything out. Just holler if you need anything.” 

He didn’t wait for an answer but headed to the kitchen. Surely Bucky would feel more comfortable if he wasn’t watched. 

Steve busied himself in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets, checking what was still edible after his two weeks of absence.

Bucky had seemed to be dehydrated, so maybe real food wasn’t a good idea yet. But still, if his metabolism was anything like Steve’s he would need a lot.

He pulled out a frozen block of pumpkin soup that he kept for Sarah and put it in the microwave. While it warmed up, he placed a few slices of bread in the toaster and mixed eggs and milk. He even found bacon in the fridge and decided to give it a try. 

Someone had done the groceries and Steve made a mental note to send Pepper a thank you. 

The ingredients towered next to the stove but Steve didn’t even think twice before he used everything. After all, he probably could eat it himself. 

In the bathroom the shower was turned on and for a moment Steve wondered if he was crazy to let a man inside his apartment that shot him thrice, only two weeks ago. Especially since he had a little kid around.

But it was _ Bucky _. He seemed to remember him and he had sought him out. Surely that meant he remembered enough to help want Steve to help him, right?

He would be damned if he didn’t.

And right now he seemed to be in better shape anyway. 

He put the bacon and scrambled eggs in the oven to keep them warm and poured the soup in a pot. 

A few minutes later the table was set and he heard the shower being turned off. He placed a bottle of water next to Bucky’s plate and waited. 

He appeared in the doorway, awkwardly shifting with his old clothes folded in his hands. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled and Steve couldn’t help but smile.

“Sure thing, Buck.” He went over to him and held his hand out for the clothes. “I can wash these,” he offered and reluctantly his friend gave them up.

He threw them to the jacket in the hamper and went back into the kitchen to serve their food.

Steve wasn’t particularly hungry, but considering Bucky’s reaction to the water, he wanted to show him that nothing was poisoned.

He placed the eggs and bacon on the table and poured the soup on plates. Then he let Bucky chose which plate he wanted. Steve took the other one and started to eat right away.

Bucky studied him for a moment before he began to dig in himself.

“I thought soup might be the best choice if you haven’t eaten anything proper in a while,” he explained the unusual meal between two spoonfuls. “But I can make something else if you like.” He kept his tone light and friendly and smiled.

Bucky nodded and cleared his plate, looking at the scrambled eggs.

With a sigh and a glance in Steve’s direction he shoved some on his plate and began to eat without having Steve test them first.

He wondered if this meant he trusted him, or if Bucky was simply too hungry to care any longer. 

Bucky was halfway through his serving of eggs when Sarah woke up with a scream. He jumped out of his chair, looking disoriented and panicked.

“It’s okay, Bucky,” Steve tried to calm him down. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” He waited until he had eye contact and gestured to her room. “That’s my daughter. She’s teething and that hurts,so she cries a lot at the moment. I’m going to get her, okay?” 

The loud screams felt like a stab to his heart, but he waited until Bucky nodded before he hurried of to see Sarah. 

She waited standing in her crib, holding herself up on the railing.

“Hey, baby girl. How was your nap?” he asked, holding her close and stroking over her hair in an attempt to calm her down. “We have a visitor. Would you like to meet him?” 

Her wailing died down as she listened to his voice and watched his face. She did this often now and he loved it, even more so if it was accompanied by those cute little gurgling sounds. 

“Da-da!” Her little hands reached for his beard and he chuckled and dodged them. From time to time she managed to plug out a few hairs and it actually hurt. 

Steve kissed her cheek and did a quick check on her diaper before he headed back to the kitchen.

Bucky simply sat there, waiting for him to return. His shoulders were hunched again as if he tried to take up less space. 

Steve brought his daughter over and waited until Bucky looked up to them. "Sarah, I want you to say 'hi' to Bucky."

Sarah observed him curiously before she let out a cooing giggle and waved both her hands. "Ba-e!" she squealed and Steve had to force himself not to blush. "Hi! Hi! Hi!" She started to wriggle in Steve's arms and he had to put her down. 

Safely seated in her high chair, Steve placed a bowl with cooled down pumpkin soup in front of her. She turned her head to him, mouth open, indicating that she wanted to be fed, but her eyes never left Bucky. 

He looked just as curious as the little girl. 

Steve finished feeding her the soup and then handed her a slice of apple so she was occupied while he finished his lunch. Bucky on the opposite side of the table managed to shift his gaze to Steve for a short moment. 

"She's beautiful," he whispered, his voice raspy. 

Steve smiled. "I always thought she looked like you," he blurted out the first words that came to his mind. With an inward groan he fought the blood back, that rushed to his cheeks. 

Bucky quickly averted his eyes and started to eat what was left on his plate. 

Sarah chewed (or mostly drooled over) her apple until she decided she didn't want it anymore. Her teeth must have started to hurt again, because tears were already forming and her face turned red. Before the crying started she threw the slice down. 

Bucky's arm shot to grab it out of the air before it even had the chance to hit the ground. Without a word he held it out for Sarah to take back.

Sarah had different plans though. She reached for Bucky's shiny metal hand and, instead of munching away on the apple, she put his metal thumb in her mouth and started to chew. 

Now Steve could definitely feel the heat rising in his face. 

"God, I'm so sorry. At the moment she chews on everything. Sarah, stop it. Let me get-" 

Bucky reached out with his right hand, flinching at the movement, and grabbed Steve's wrist when he tried to get up from the table. "It's okay," he murmured. 

"Bucky, she shouldn't chew on you." He smiled reassuringly. "She has toys for that." Including the teddy bear Steve had gotten her for Christmas that Bucky surely would hate. 

"Does she chew on you?"

"Yes, but I signed up for this. Let me get her chewing ring." 

Bucky let go of him and Steve headed over to the living room where he had seen it last. It was still all a bit messy after he just came back from the mission and hospital. 

Sarah was still happily chewing away on Bucky's finger and Steve had to persuade her to exchange it for her toy. 

His friend seemed to be a little bit sad over the loss of contact as well. 

Clearing his throat, Steve tried to end the uncomfortable silence that had spread between them. “Sarah will be up for a few hours, but we were going to take it slow. If you like you can either watch a movie with us or rest in the bedroom?”

“I’ll stay with you.” Bucky’s answer was short and to the point. 

To further busy himself, Steve started to clean up what was left of his lunch preparations. 

Bucky remained at the table and the times Steve turned around to check on Sarah, he found his friend hunched over again, his gaze travelling from his clenched hands to Sarah and back again. 

He looked like he wanted to interact with her but was afraid to. 

Did he worry that Steve wouldn’t allow it? 

Steve probably should be concerned about just how willing he was to trust Bucky with Sarah. After all, he wasn’t just his best and oldest friend, but had also tried to kill him, not even three weeks ago. 

It was just so hard not to trust a man that looked like _ his _ Bucky. 

If their lives had gone as they should and Steve would have found a girl willing to put up with him, his kids would have grown up with Bucky anyway - and vice versa. And so many times over the last year Steve had yearned for Sarah to get to now the real Bucky and not only the plushie version. 

So he made a decision. 

“Hey, Bucky.” Steve waited until his friend looked up. “Would you mind taking Sarah to the living room already? Then I can clean up without her reaching for the dirty cloth.” He tried to sound calm and casual, even smiled, hoping that it would make it easier for Bucky. 

A scared gleam flashed in Bucky’s eyes before he turned his gaze to Sarah, who was still munching away on her teething ring. He seemed to consider Steve’s request.

Steve anxiously waited for Bucky’s decision. 

Would he pick up the baby and take her to the other room, probably knowing that he would be at least a bit responsible for her? Or would he stay seated? 

To ease his friend, Steve turned around to rinse the dishes and with a smile he listened to Bucky’s chair scratch over the kitchen tiles. 

So he _ did _ get up. 

“I’m going to pick you up now,” Bucky whispered and Steve had to force the grin down, that wanted to spread on his face. “I’ll try to be careful,” he continued to promise. 

Steve listened and recognised the noise Sarah’s little shoes made, when they tapped on the table of her high chair. 

When Sarah made a happy squealing sound, he turned around. 

Bucky held her in his right arm and apparently had wanted to give her the ring back with his other. But instead, Sarah had grabbed his metal hand again, studying it with interest. 

With a confused frown, Bucky turned towards the living room, carefully placing his steps as if he didn’t want Sarah to feel the movement. 

If Steve’s heartbeat accelerated, he blamed it on his healing wounds, that apparently exhausted him faster today than usually. 

When he eventually followed them into the other room, his heart stopped altogether. 

Bucky sat cross legged on his couch, swaying Sarah to sleep. 

Steve paused in the doorway, watching them for a moment before Bucky turned to meet his gaze. 

“I think she’s asleep,” he whispered and for the first time since he fell through his door, Bucky seemed comfortable. 

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve smiled and made his way to the armchair. When Bucky moved to hand Sarah over, he stopped him. “If you like you can keep her for now. It’s not yet nap time, so if we put her into her cip, she might wake up again. But she likes to cuddle. I think it’s the body heat” 

“Don’t you want to take her?”

“If it doesn’t hurt your shoulder, I would be grateful if you could do it. My stomach’s still sore.” Inwardly Steve flinched. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned it. He didn’t want Bucky to feel guilty about the gunshot wounds. Me may have pulled the trigger, but it was Hydra that was responsible.

Thankfully Bucky didn’t seem to react to it and went back to watch Sarah in her sleep. 

From time to time he would sport the faintest hint of a sweet smile and Steve could understand so well. He probably looked the same. 

“I really could use a nap,” Steve finally said after watching Bucky and Sarah for at least half an hour. “What about you? She should be able to sleep without being held now. I could prepare the bedroom for you.” 

Bucky frowned. “It can wait,” he answered, only looking up briefly. 

“Buck, you were unconscious from exhaustion and your wounds. I think you should try to get some rest as well.” Again Steve tried to soften his words with a smile.

“But what about you?” 

Steve shrugged. “I planned on napping on the couch anyway.” 

With a short nod Bucky stood and waited next to the armchair for Steve to get up. When he reached to take over Sarah, his friend took a step back though. 

“You take the couch and Sarah and I take the armchair,” he commanded and sat down. 

Steve wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh at Bucky for not letting go of Sarah or complain about being ordered around. 

When he didn’t lay down immediately, Bucky shot him look he well remembered from his childhood. 

“I’ll rest later,” Bucky added before he relaxed in the armchair. 

Steve, instead of laughing or complaining, settled for a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you guys think?  
Is anyone surprised how this chapter turned out? No? Well, me neither. :D 
> 
> I looove your kudos and comments so feel free to leave one. They make my day. <3


	7. This Feels Too Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first afternoon together after seventy years - and feeling Steve thought he had long overcome.

When Steve woke up about an hour later, Sarah was still asleep in Bucky’s arms. His friend’s eyelids had dropped too, and if it weren’t for Bucky’s strong, rhythmic heartbeat, Steve would thought him asleep as well. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve murmured, his voice still raspy with sleep. “How are you doin’?” 

Bucky’s eyes flew open and something that resembled a smile, appeared on his face. 

“I think we’re good,” he answered with a quick glance to Sarah.

Steve grinned. “Either you’re really comfortable or she’s even more exhausted from the flight than I thought.” 

His friend nodded and silence spread between them. 

The silence technically was unnecessary - there were so many things Steve wanted to say, starting with how grateful he felt, that Bucky was still alive and here with him. 

But how could you say such a thing, when the reason behind it was brainwashing and torture?

Instead of stumbling over his own words, Steve got up, only to return with two bottles of water. 

“Would you like anything else?” he asked as he placed them on the table. “Coffee or tea?” 

Bucky shook his head.

The silence started up again until Sarah began to wake up slowly. 

For a second Bucky looked panicked, as if he did something wrong. 

“Let me take her for a while. I’m going to get her cleaned up and see if she wants anything.” 

Bucky complied and carefully handed Sarah over. But instead of staying in the living room and resting - what Steve hoped he would do - he followed them to Sarah’s room. He waited awkwardly in the doorway and watched every move.

Steve felt the need to talk again.

“You know, someone left her on my doorstep,” he explained while he stripped Sarah out of her onesie. “And for about a month I was either terrified or exhausted until I got the hang of it.” 

When he turned to look at Bucky, Steve found a very surprised look on his friend’s face. 

“How- I mean, someone dropped her off?” He actually sounded offended.

“Yes. I just came back from my morning run and found her in a box outside the door with a letter addressed to me.” Steve started to clean her.

“But why? She’s adorable.” The last word he mumbled, as if he felt embarrassed to think that way. “I mean she seems to be a very calm baby.” 

Steve frowned. “The letter was very concerning. I think Sarah’s biological mom had something that kept her from caring for her.” He shrugged. “With giving her to me, I think she wanted to make sure Sarah got her best shot at life.” 

He still didn’t seem convinced, but Bucky nodded.

“But now I have the legal guardianship. I’m officially her dad.” Even after more than a year he couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face at that thought.

While Steve continued the procedure to change Sarah, blowing kisses on her tummy once she started to get fully aware of her surroundings, Bucky watched silently. It wasn’t until Steve picked her up to return to the living room, that his friend spoke again.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter, Steve.” 

“There’s only a handful of people who know, Buck.” He stood opposite of Bucky in the doorway, barely an inch away, and he could see the hurt in his eyes.

“I nearly killed you,” he whispered, his voice full of regret and sounding as if he was close to tears.

Shifting Sarah in his arms, Steve reached out to carefully grab a hold of Bucky’s shoulder. “It wasn’t you. They forced you to do it. They erased your memory and brainwashed you. But you still managed to break free and save me.” He smiled at the thought. “That’s great, Buck. It shouldn’t be possible but you still made it.” 

But he still hung his shoulders. “I could have robbed her of you.” Bucky frowned. “Not only could I have killed you, but she would have been alone again.”

Wrapping his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, he lead him to the couch. 

“I was aware of the risk when I decided to continue my work with Shield.” Carefully he forced Bucky to take a seat. Sarah was restless, her usual routine broken, but he needed to talk to Bucky first. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

He sat Sarah down, hoping that she would busy herself for a little while. “And eventually everything worked out, didn’t it?” 

“Hungry!” Sarah stated with a frustrated frown. She took Steve’s left and Bucky’s right hand in hers and pulled them towards the kitchen witch wobbly steps. Even though both of them could have easily withstand her, they followed obediently.

Steve picked her up so she could reach for the applesauce and juice he kept in the fridge for her. As soon as her little hands pulled them out, Sarah handed them to Bucky. 

“Dwarfs,” she demanded then. Steve smiled and set her down, watching how she carefully made her way to the living room. 

“Dwarfs?” whispered Bucky in a curious voice. 

Steve nodded and followed his daughter. Last time she tried to start the movie herself, she nearly broke the blu-Ray player. “Yes, it's her favorite movie and I’ve probably seen it about a hundred times now.” 

Bucky, who still carried Sarah’s snack, waited until she managed to climb on the couch (with a little help of Steve’s foot, that was used as a step), before he sat down next to her. 

For a second Steve wondered if he should sit down next to them - next to Bucky - but he decided against it. His friend seemed to crave this time with Steve’s daughter and if it helped Bucky to feel comfortable, than he would gladly grant him those little moments.

Steve started the movie to meet Sarah’s demands, while Bucky watched her happily sipping juice from her special cup. 

Bucky watched his every move attentively as if to understand what Steve was doing. 

When the movie started Bucky’s gaze shifted from Sarah to the screen and he furrowed his brows. The knot in Steve’s stomach tightened.

Not only should his friend know this movie, they watched it together when it first came out. 

Steve still remembered the day vividly. 

If he would go to a Disney movie today the seats would be filled with kids and their parents, but back in the day it had mostly been adults who were fascinated by those pictures.

“Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” came out before either of them turned twenty. 

They had heard about it, of course, and wanted to see for themselves - Steve as the artist even more so than Bucky, who was more interested in the technicalities. But the movies was something they rarely could afford. Steve barely being able to work at his office job due to his poor health, was sometimes lucky enough to draw or paint commissions or sketch something for the papers. If he didn’t need the extra money for rent or medicine, then he could think of spending it on pleasurable things. And Bucky, even though he worked double shifts at the docks and had moved into Steve’s apartment shortly after his mother died just because it was cheaper, couldn’t afford these things either.

But it was an animated picture. They simply had to see it. 

So they made a plan. 

Bucky knew a girl that worked at the movie theatre and he flirted with her for weeks before she told him where the back entrance was. With her help they snuck in and she could tell her parents that she wasn’t ready to meet someone else, because she was still heartbroken over Bucky. 

It had been amazing and when Steve had picked out movies he could watch together with Sarah he didn’t even hesitate to buy it. 

Studying Bucky watching the movie now, was difficult. Steve wanted his friend to laugh, wanted him to remember how much fun they had that night when they wanted to leave and were asked for their tickets. It was physically painful how much he missed Bucky’s laugh at this moment - he wanted to see the wrinkles around his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks. 

He didn’t want him to frown at the screen as if it offended him. 

Steve wanted to ask whether he remembered anything at all about their time together but he was too afraid. Just because Bucky remembered him didn’t mean he had the memories of them growing up. 

And there was no one to tell them if he ever would. 

So Steve kept quiet, telling himself that he did so, because he refused to upset Bucky. 

After Sarah finished her snack she cuddled herself to Bucky’s side. She seemed uncomfortable until Steve told him to lay down with her. It wasn’t technically necessary - a pillow would have done - but he was sure that this was the only way to get Bucky to rest. 

After a while Bucky’s eyelids grew heavy before they eventually closed. With a deep sigh he passed over into sleep and Steve could watch him without shame. 

The shower had helped a bit, Steve noted. He was clean now and looked a lot less frightening without the grime and blood all over him. With Steve’s sweatpants he even looked comfortable in his sleep. 

_ His _ Bucky, his best friend, the one he thought he lost in the Alps, had been a happy person. Steve’s childhood memories mostly consisted of his best friend - sitting on his bedside and joking, so the fact that this time the cold could be lethal, slipped Steve’s mind; humming songs on their way to school; dragging him around Brooklyn because “Stevie, inspiration can’t be found in our stuffy apartment”. The Bucky from before had always been an optimist and never believed that one day Steve wouldn’t be there. When they talked about how Steve had overheard the doctors tell his mom that it would be a miracle if Steve made it to his thirties, Bucky had thrown an arm around his shoulders. “Stevie,” he had said, “they all underestimate ya. We’ll show’em and dance on their graves when we’re a hundred years old.” 

Steve had always wanted to believe him and in the end - as it turned out - Bucky was right. 

His Bucky had short hair, that he carefully arranged every day and that was tousled when he came home after yet another double shift at the docks. He had been slender but muscular; cocky but oh so gentle. 

Steve wasn’t sure what the new Bucky was. 

Was he even  _ his _ Bucky? Were there still parts that recognised him as his best friend? 

Steve wasn’t so much concerned about the physical change but more about his mind. He didn’t care that his best friend had gained even more muscle and had a physique that resembled those of the men that went to the gym at least three times a week if not more. He couldn’t care less about the hair and it would look just as orderly as Bucky’s hair did back in the forties, if he gave it a trim and brushed it. 

The arm and his scars made Steve sad, not because they were other signs of his best friend’s physical change, but because Steve didn’t want to think about the pain they must have caused. 

How much had Bucky’s mind changed alongside those scars? 

Steve had been frozen for seventy years and the readjustment, while not painful, had changed him significantly.

How much would a person lose of themselves while being used as a weapon for the same amount of time? Stripped of their free will, abused and neglected by those who gave the orders? 

Steve’s gaze shifted to Sarah, who’s eyes had grown heavy and who muttered incoherent words, still focused on the movie. From the rare occasions they watched movies Steve knew that her constant stream of chattering wasn’t meant for him but the dwarfs. 

Would a man, that was supposed to kill him, take care of his daughter? 

Would Bucky, if he was still under Hydra’s control, take a nap on his couch, cuddling with Sarah? 

Steve was naive, he knew as much. No sane person would have handed over their child to an ex-assassin, who tried to kill them two weeks ago, after thirty minutes of more or less polite conversation. 

A sane person would have called the police or, in Steve’s case, Shield, but the thought never even crossed his mind. Because Shield, what was left of it anyway, would take Bucky away and lock him up. If they found the right country to extradite him with, there would even a death sentence waiting. 

The thought alone made Steve’s stomach clench. 

He didn’t know whether Bucky wanted to stay here of if Steve’s place was just a stop on his way out of the country and into hiding. But, if his friend wanted, he could stay as long as he liked. They had lived together in the past and they could do it now, too, even though both of them changed so much, that none of their former neighbors and friends would ever recognise them. 

Steve could take care of Bucky, if he let him. He could finally pay back all those years when his best friend had been all he had. While Bucky healed, Steve could sit by his bedside, take care of the little things like washing clothes and making dinner. Even though Steve didn’t have to work double shifts, he had enough money to pay for everything the three of them needed. Bucky could finally read all those books he had wanted to as a young man, but sacrificed because Steve needed his medicine or they had to pay the enormous bill for heating their shoebox of an apartment during the winter. 

He could finally have all those things he looked at from outside the store fronts of shops but never could afford. Steve could afford them now and he wanted nothing more than to give his best friend everything.

If he let him. 

The movie went on and by the time Prince Charming came to kiss Snow White Sarah had fallen asleep on top of Bucky again. It was a lovely picture, both of them relaxed in their slumber. Steve supposed he often looked the same when he took a nap with her, especially during those first months when he had taken every chance at sleep he could get. 

Carefully he reached for his sketchbook - he had a few scattered around through the apartment - and flipped through the pages.

He wanted to open a fresh one, sketch the scene before him, but stopped at an older drawing. 

Was his memory really that faulty? 

The Bucky on paper looked so different from the one of his couch. Steve had known that there were flaws, because he hadn’t seen him in a very long time. 

But the difference was greater than he thought.

With a faint sigh he opened a new page and brought his pencil to the soft paper. 

The lines were so familiar by now - Sarah sleeping and Bucky laying on the couch were images he had drawn a hundred times before but never together. 

The scratching on paper was a welcome sound to his overthinking brain that immediately shifted into a state of peace. Over this he had control. His sketches were the one thing in his life that were entirely of his own making. Steve choose where to set the lead, the pressure he used and the direction he took.

He was the master of the final product.

Everything else he couldn’t control. Not really.

He only could do his best to deal with the consequences.

Consequences that sometimes turned out to be exactly what he wanted, like Bucky on his couch holding Sarah as if she was his daughter, too. And in this moment, it looked like it. 

Steve wanted to capture this moment on paper, so it would never be lost to time. 

The movie ended and the quick strokes of his pencil assumed the form of a scenery he had imagined a thousand times in his life - before and after the ice. It made his heart skip a beat, the nostalgia weighing down his mind. 

Were they finally where they’re supposed to be? Together after seventy years, a child that would grow up with both of them as her parental figures.

Before Steve could ponder some more, Bucky’s eyes slowly blinked open, still hazy with sleep before his mind seemed to catch up. With a jolt his hands reached for Sarah, steadying her on his chest, his brows furrowed in concern. He seemed relieved once he made sure she was okay and still asleep. 

Steve allowed him a few moments more, to come back to reality, before he spoke up. 

“Hey, Buck.” He made his voice sound cheerful, keeping his twisted emotions to himself. “How was your nap?” 

On Bucky’s cheeks, two red spots appeared. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he murmured his voice still heavy and a picture flashed in front of Steve’s mental eye. 

It was Bucky, after one of the cold winter’s nights they spend in the same bed so Steve wouldn’t freeze to literal death. They had been fourteen and fifteen at the time, an age where their friends (or rather Bucky’s friends) would laugh at them if they ever found out how they’d spend the night. Hair tousled and the lines of the pillow still pressed into his face. His voice had been rough, too, and it did things to Steve, he had been afraid of. 

Still was, to be honest, but for entirely different reasons. 

“It’s no problem,” he quickly answered. He didn’t want Bucky to know what effect he had on him.

“Hey, what do you think about ordering pizza?” 

“Pizza?” Bucky frowned.

“Sure. It usually takes about half to one hour to be here. That would be just in time for Sarah’s dinner.”

Bucky nodded but didn’t quite seem to understand. It broke Steve’s heart - Bucky used to love pizza even though it was just another thing they rarely could afford - and now it seemed as if he wasn’t sure what it was.

Wordless he handed him a menu, that was pinned to the fridge. 

Bucky studied the listed options and pictures before he put it down with a resigned sigh. “I’ll just take the same as you do.” 

With a nod Steve headed into the kitchen to phone in their order. It also gave him the chance to take a deep breath. As much as he loved having Bucky here, it took its toll, too, to see him like this - so different from how he remembered his best friend.

While they waited for their delivery Steve handed Sarah some pencils. She loved to draw (even though her motives were unrecognisable) which of course made Steve extremely happy. Everywhere in their apartment one could find her pictures. 

He asked Bucky if he wanted to read something or watch TV, but he declined the offers by shaking his head.

So once again Steve was left to sit in silence. He kept sketching to prevent his mind from wandering too far off to where it shouldn’t go. Sitting on the ground next to Sarah it was even harder than before, just because he was now closer to his best friend. All of them either sat on or leaned against the couch. 

From time to time he leaned in to help Sarah hold her pencil properly (his research into early children’s education told him, that it was important to prevent a wrist damaging habit) or tell her how good she was doing. She giggled when he did so and resumed to drawing with renewed vigor. 

Bucky remained on the couch and watched them.

After half an hour, Steve’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Their dinner would arrive in fifteen minutes.

“I’m going to heat up Sarah’s dinner. Keep an eye on her?” he asked Bucky on his way to the kitchen. 

His friend didn’t answer directly, but Steve interpreted his humming noise as affirmation.

Moving the pot with the remaining soup from the fridge to the stove took him less than twenty seconds. He needed another five minutes to chop fruits and veggies they could all snack on, including Sarah. If it wasn’t for her and her health, Steve wouldn’t bother with them to be honest. Not while he was still healing. 

What only should have been a quick glance into the living room endet up to cause the most longing feeling he ever experienced in his long life. 

Bucky had dropped to the floor, kneeling next to Sarah. His back was bowed over their coffee table, steadying himself on his left arm. The right was wrapped around Sarah, helping her to draw something Steve couldn’t make out. 

The scenery was something out of a dream. For a brief moment he considered the possibility, that he was still at the hospital. It could be, couldn’t it? That he was still unconscious, either from medication or because his body was just too weak. This could be a fever or chemical induced hallucination, mocking his dreams and wishes. 

If it was a dream, how much would it hurt if it ended eventually? His body had survived seventy years in the ice without damage, refusing to let him die. A few gunshot wounds wouldn’t kill him either. 

“Want to try a cat?”, he heard Bucky whisper in hushed tones to Sarah, leaning further in so he could guide her hand. “Does this look like a cat?” He asked, his head crooked to the side, like an art critic would do.

Sarah giggled and shook her head. 

“It doesn’t look like a cat?” Again she shook her head laughing. “Does it have a tail?”

Sarah pointed at something on the page. “Huh. I thought those were the ears,” Bucky answered and another fit of her laughter wafted towards the kitchen. 

“So it’s really not a cat,” Bucky concluded. “You think your dad could have done it better?” he asked and Sarah nodded enthusiastically. 

With a smile - the first genuine smile Steve had seen on Bucky’s lips in over seventy years - Bucky turned towards him and Steve’s heart only didn’t beat out of his chest because it was saved by the pizza delivery boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Im terribly sorry that it's Saturday again.   
I had to hop on a plane to London spontaneously on Wednesday to take an English language assessment to finally enroll at the new university - I did rather well and now I'm moving from Airbnb to Airbnb until I find a place to stay for the next year.   
I have the next two chapters written, so I should be able to post them according to schedule (more or less) and I hope that in two weeks everything will be sorted out so that I can write down the next few chapters. 
> 
> On a more cheerful note - thank you so much for your comments on the last chapter. I had a terrible week last week and those played a huge role in keeping me sane.   
And I'm delighted that another chapter of Bucky and Sarah just followed. 
> 
> As always - leave comments and make my day.   
I love you guys <3


	8. Stay Focused, Steve!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pizza dinner with Sarah and Steve get's Bucky out of his clothes and into his bed - sadly not in the way we all wish for.

The rest of the evening went by rather uneventful. 

Sarah wasn’t really impressed with another serving of pumpkin soup and therefore picked the toppings off of Steve’s pizza. It left him with mushy pizza bread, which tasted like wet cardboard, and cold soup.

At least Bucky seemed to be content with his meal. After the pizza arrived, he had eyed it sceptically, even asked whether Steve was sure, if something that was delivered, was safe to eat. To prove his point, he let him pick a box himself and then still grabbed a slice of Bucky’s pizza. 

They watched another movie to pass the time (they would have to take long walks when he was healthy again, just to make up for so much time spend on the couch) and eventually Sarah’s eyelids started to drop.

“Hey, princess,” Steve murmured as he picked her up from where she was perched on the couch next to Bucky. “How about we go and take a bath?”

Already half asleep on his shoulder, Sarah nodded. When she was like this he had to go in the tub with her to make sure she wouldn’t drown. It was easier than bending over for half an hour. 

Steve wasn’t sure if he could do it already anyway, with his stomach wounds still feeling sore. 

“Are you good for a few minutes?” he asked, taking a quick look over to Bucky, who only nodded. 

It confused Steve, that he wouldn’t talk to him, but to Sarah. And he hated that he was jealous of his own daughter.

He made fast work in the bathroom, turning on the water before he quickly stripped them out of their clothes. Sarah was still caught somewhere between being awake and excited for her bath and falling asleep. 

This would have to be quick. 

He wrapped his bandages with the showerproof tape before he climbed in, holding Sarah close. All this climbing around hurt his wounds and he was more than glad that he had invested in an extra large tub. He could lay back comfortably, taking a few minutes to cuddle with his daughter. 

Washing both of them and drying them off took longer than it usually did, due to the pain in his abdomen. But he made sure that Sarah was wrapped in her overly large bathing robe and warm, before he towelled himsel dry. 

Towel around his hips, Steve exited the bathroom with Sarah perched on his hip. As they walked into the living room, Bucky’s head lifted. His friend took a quick look, before he quickly shifted his gaze down again as if he was embarrassed to see him and Steve chided himself. Why did he have to flaunt the wrapping over his gunshot wounds when he knew how Bucky felt about shooting him? He was a horrible, selfish person. 

To ease his mind, Steve’s eyes did a quick sweep through the room and he couldn’t hide his smile. “Buck, you didn’t have to clean up. You’re our guest.” He gave him a smile. “Just relax, okay?” 

Bucky nodded but refused to look up again.

“Say good night to Bucky, princess.” Sarah waved, too tired for words already. 

On a hunch he walked over to the couch to sit down next to Bucky. “Here, I thought that you maybe wanted to say good night, too.” 

Bucky nodded and leaned forward to press a light kiss on the flush of hair on Sarah’s head. “ Spokoynoy nochi, printsessa,” he whispered and Steve had the sudden notion to check on his wounds. Surely the pulling in his chest had something to do with the healing process in his abdomen, right? 

Because why would it be related to Bucky kissing Sarah’s head? The little girl’s head, that looked so much like Steve had imagined Bucky’s kids to look one day? 

The thought was far fetched.

With a nod he rose to his feet, carefully so he wouldn’t strain his healing injury, before they went to Sarah’s room. Steve changed her into her jammies and, tired as his little one appeared to be, decided on a short bedtime story. 

She was out cold before her head even hit the pillow. 

Just for the sake of their routine Steve, which probably aided in calming him down more than it ever helped Sarah, read the short story. 

“Love you, princess”, he whispered afterwards and gave her a kiss to the forehead.

Just like Bucky had. 

But it wasn’t strange, because Steve was her parent and he always kissed her little head when he put her to bed at night. And Bucky was his best friend so it was perfectly normal for him as well. 

Besides, everyone who spent more than a few minutes with Sarah loved her. All of the Avengers would do the same if he ever let her sleep anywhere else. 

Hell, Pepper probably did the very same thing while he was in D.C. and in the hospital. 

So there was no reason to overly question why Bucky had whispered in Russian and kissed his daughter. 

It was perfectly  _ normal _ , Steve told himself. And he would have to stop thinking about it. 

With a sigh he switched of the overhead light and, for a second, stared at the Asgardian night light, willing himself to focus on it rather than on his best friend, sitting in his living room. 

It really was a very thoughtful gift, pretty with how it tinted Sarah’s room in a warm golden glow without being too bright. It wouldn’t disturb her sleep. 

Steve wondered if he could recreate the effect of the light with paint. Water colours probably would do. Or oil? 

Maybe he could get Bucky to pose with Sarah in his arms for a picture he could use as reference for - 

Get a grip on yourself, Rogers, he warned himself before he shut Sarah’s door and went to his own room. 

Steve dressed himself in comfortable pyjama pants and a hoodie, covering up his injuries this time. He had to go out there again and he didn’t want to make Bucky even more uncomfortable. He wanted his friend to feel at home here. 

In the living room, Bucky still hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch when Steve returned. He was still hunching his back and drawing in his shoulders as if he wanted to hide.

With an inward sigh, Steve took a seat next to him. 

“So, Buck, how about I check on you injuries again and then we get ready for bed?” 

Bucky nodded. 

“Okay, just let me get the first aid kit.” With a smile Steve stood again, wondering briefly if Bucky would ever talk to him again, before he went to fetch the kit. 

Steve forced himself to smile casually when he came back, trying to make Bucky feel at ease. He placed the first aid it, painkillers and water on the table. 

It was tense and awkward for a second, both of them staring at the table without moving. Bucky probably knew that he had to take off his shirt in order for Steve to take a look at the wounds, but he didn’t. And Steve was afraid to ask. 

“So,” Steve began, not sure what to say. “Want me to take a look at your shoulder? And I saw some other cuts and such, if you want me to…” 

Again, his friend simply nodded. Bucky’s hands moved to the hem of his shirt but he paused, not taking it off. He seemed unsure whether it was a good idea or not. 

Before Steve could encourage him - tell him that he had already seen the arm or ask if he should help - Bucky sighed. 

Steve was a bad person. 

All of those people who thought that Captain America was righteous and honourable were so, so wrong. Instead he was terrible, selfish and had no self control. 

But even though Steve  _ knew _ that he was all of that, he still couldn’t keep himself from looking. 

While Bucky was  _ injured  _ and obviously  _ in pain.  _

It was just that a special memory forced itself back into Steve’s mind. 

They had been fourteen, maybe fifteen and it had been summer; one of those rare summer where Steve wasn’t constantly sick. He had actually felt pretty good and Bucky’s parents had planned to take Bucky and Becca out of town for a day at the beach. Bucky had demanded that Steve accompanied them even though everyone had taken it as a given. 

They never really went anywhere without the other at that point already. 

Steve could still remember how tired he had been because they had to get up super early. Mr. Barnes had insisted that they leave as early as possible so they would get a good spot at the beach. 

Bucky had been tired as well and he had fallen asleep on Steve. Technically it wasn’t knew that they slept in close proximity to one another, but usually only Steve’s mom witnessed it. 

Steve felt uncomfortable the entire time of the drive. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Bucky using him as a pillow. The problem was, that he liked it  _ too much. _

Bucky was warm and comfortable, his hair tickling Steve’s chin and the scent of Bucky’s soap filled his nose. It stirred something inside Steve, that he didn’t want to think about. 

He knew damn well where his thoughts were headed and it was  _ wrong. _

And then Bucky moved. 

He had stretched his legs, so they touched one of the doors and buried his nose in the crook of Steve’s neck, who rested against the other door. To get his neck into a more comfortable position, Bucky rubbed his neck up and down Steve’s neck and he hit  _ a spot. _

Decades later and Steve still didn’t know why it had sent shivers down his spine. 

He didn’t dare to take deep breaths, escaping Bucky’s tantalizing scent, trying to keep his mind straight but once the thought was there, it was hard to get rid off. 

They arrived at the beach and even though it was still early in the day, the sun was out and it was warm. 

Bucky’s parents and Becca didn’t want to go into the water right away, so only Bucky and Steve went to get changed into their swim shorts. 

Steve had seen Bucky naked before, when they were really young their parents even used to bath them together, but the thoughts from the car still haunted him. Bucky lifted his shirt, revealing a flat, but healthy, chest.

And Bucky’s shorts had hung so low on his hips that Steve could catch a glimpse at his hip bones. His fingers had started to itch, even though he wasn’t sure what he wanted to touch. 

Now, eighty years later, the thought still followed Steve into his dreams. 

Movement on the couch pulled Steve back to the here and now. 

Bucky grabbed the hem of the shirt Steve had given him earlier, slowly pulling it over his head, revealing inch after inch of glorious, naked skin. 

Steve’s sweats hung low on Bucky’s hips and, unlike the day at the beach, Steve knew why his fingers itched. Where Bucky had once been youthfully thin, he now was thick and covered in muscle.

Steve’s gaze was drawn upwards. His eyes strayed over the planes of his abs and chest and when Bucky’s shoulder twitched, a fresh wave of guilt rolled over him. 

He should think clinical, take care of his friend’s injuries and help him to relieve the pain, but instead his brain brought up images, that caused his heart to beat a little faster. 

“You okay?”, he asked, desperately trying to think of something else. “Can I help you?” 

With a grunt Bucky tried to wrench the shirt over his head. He only managed to pull it up his back, his face frowning with pain. 

“Buck, just let me help you,” Steve begged, instinctively taking a step forward. 

Bucky struggled with the sweatshirt for a few moments longer until he nodded, accompanied by a sigh. 

Slowly, as if he tried to go near a scared animal, Steve reached for the left sleeve. “Okay, can you get your arm out of this?” 

Bucky complied and pulled his arm inside. 

“I’ll bunch of the sweater now,” Steve explained. He wasn’t sure how Bucky would react if he just went ahead. “Then we’ll get it over you head and pull it down he injured arm.” 

He waited until Bucky nodded his consent. 

Steve steeled himself inwardly. Sure, he was a big guy himself, but Bucky’s chest was so broad, that there was no way, Steve wasn’t going to accidentally touch him while taking off his clothes.    
It created images that made Steve regret, that he had put on sweats after the bath again. 

_ Think about Sarah, think about changing her diaper, _ he told himself, repeating it in his head, over and over again, to get his mind back on track. 

“Here we go,” he mumbled and reached for the sweatshirt’s hem. 

His fingertips wandered over Bucky’s surprisingly soft skin. The warmth bled through Steve’s skin all the way up his arm, spreading in his chest. 

Bucky ducked his head, and Steve took it as a sign to hurry up. He pushed the tingling sensation down, ignored the warm feeling and focused on his work. 

He pulled the fabric over Bucky’s left shoulder, forcing his eyes not to dwell on where the metallic arm met his shoulder. But he still noticed enough for his heart to break. 

It must have hurt so much. 

The scarring was extensive and Steve refused to think about how bad the wounds would have had to be. Assuming Bucky’s enhanced healing was anyway like Steve’s this shouldn’t have happened. So either he had still been a normal human when Hydra found him and took off his arm, or… 

Steve cast a quick glance at Bucky’s face and noticed the red flush spreading on his cheeks.

Great, now he made Bucky uncomfortable with his staring. 

To get back to the task at hand, Steve held the sweater, so he could pull it over his head. It caught Bucky’s hair, messing it up.

Something tingled in Steve’s stomach when he remembered, that Bucky’s hair used to look like this in the mornings - back in the forties when it was still short. 

He guided the sweater the rest of the way, down Bucky’s right arm. As soon as it came off, he took a step back. 

Maybe not being in Bucky’s space would help. 

Noticing the bruises that covered Bucky’s torso, he knew that he wasn’t finished just yet. The entire purpose of this was to help Bucky and take care of his injuries. 

And there were more than just the dislocated shoulder. 

“Bucky,” Steve gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me that some of that blood was yours?” 

There was a wound, just over his ribs, that looked suspiciously like a graze. Another cut disappeared into the hem of the sweatpants Steve had given him. 

This especially had to hurt.    
While the sweats hung loose on Steve’s hips, on Bucky they were extremely tight. It had to feel as if someone pressed on it all the time. 

Bucky shrugged, a delayed answer to Steve’s question, and he forced his friend to lay down on the couch once again. 

“Buck, those need to be cleaned.” He took a longer look at the wound he took for a grace. “I’m pretty sure this one actually needs stitching.”

“No hospital,” Bucky murmured under his breath and Steve was surprised to finally hear his voice again. 

He sighed. “I know we can’t take you to a hospital.” Appraisingly he looked at his friend. “Would you consider having a doctor look over these here?” 

“No doctors.”

Even though Steve hated this, he nodded. For now he wouldn’t insist on it. Instead he made a note to keep a close eye on Bucky’s injuries and, if necessary, force him to a doc. 

The injuries helped Steve to focus. His hands moved over Bucky’s chest, cleaning those wounds that still were open, wrapped and bandaged what needed wraps and bandages and applied various ointments on the rest. 

He even got Bucky to strip out of his sweats so Steve could take a look at the nasty cut. It spread over nearly the entirety of Bucky’s thigh. 

Steve’s movements were practiced. He wasn’t a medic for sure, but he knew enough first aid to get it done. Still, due to the vast amount of injuries, it took him longer than he liked. 

If it were for him, Bucky would never need treatment for anything.

When he was done, Steve handed Bucky another pill and a bottle of water. This time, his friend didn’t wait for him to assure him to demonstrate it wasn’t poisoned.

Steve waited patiently on the couch next to Bucky, watched his Adam’s apple move as he emptied the bottle. 

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to change the sheets on the bed so you’ll have it more comfortable.” Evading the situation, he hurried to his bedroom.    
Wrong solution. 

Stripping and redoing his bed only posed the question, how Bucky would look like in here. 

It was like his mind provided him with ideas for sketches: Bucky with his bed head in the mornings, eyes still clouded from sleep; reading with Sarah when she was a fuss and wouldn’t calm down for her nap; fast asleep and tangled in the sheets; the sheets, nowhere in sight but instead Bucky in all his glorious - 

_ Stop it! _

Steve sighed and fluffed the pillow one last time. 

All this thinking would only make things harder. He had to calm down and get a grip on things. 

“Bed’s ready,” he called out as he walked into the living room. 

Bucky’s head shot up, again a faint red tinted his cheeks. 

“Oh God, Buck. I’m so sorry.” Steve hurried to the couch and grabbed the sweater. “I should have helped you get it on again.” 

“‘S okay.” His eyes averted downwards, Bucky continued to mumble. “I can’t sleep in your bed.” 

Steve huffed. “Why not?” 

“You’re injured.” 

“So are you. And I’ve spent the last two weeks in the hospital. I’ll be fine on my very comfortable couch.” 

Bucky looked up, unsure. “But your back.” 

“What about it?” 

“It hurts when you fall asleep on the couch.” 

Steve’s heartbeat sped up. His back indeed used to hurt when he fell asleep on the couch and spent the night there.  _ Back in the forties.  _ Bucky always used to carry him to bed when he returned after a late shift at the docks - when Steve had waited up for him, sketching on the couch and falling asleep with his pencil still in hand. 

“It used to, yeah.” Steve couldn’t keep the grin from spreading. “But I’m all good now. Besides,” he waived his hand, dismissing his concerns. “I think when Sarah was about a month old, I spent more time sleeping here than in my bed.” It wasn’t technically a lie, because he did sleep a lot during the day when she napped and used the night hours in his bed to read up on childcare. 

“But it’s your bed.” 

“And tonight it’s yours, Buck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it guys! It's Friday and I uploaded a chapter!   
I finally moved in on campus today and will head to IKEA soon, so I'm better now. There should be nothing other than assignments holding back this story :D 
> 
> And I wanted to thank you - you've been my light over the past few weeks when I had no idea how my life would turn out. I always looked at your lovely comments and the kudos-count to cheer me up.   
So thank you for sticking around and loving Sarah, Steve and Bucky.


	9. Nothing out of the Ordinary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is pining, Bucky apparently oblivious and Sarah's in a good mood. :)

Steve had barely closed an eye that night. 

He blamed it on he couch and the lingering pulling sensation his injuries emitted into his body. Even though he slept on the couch all the time and it usually never bothered him. Plus he had taken painkillers before he went to sleep and they numbed the pain pretty effectively. 

Steve refused to acknowledge his treacherous thoughts, that wandered into his bedroom, to the man who hopefully was soundly asleep, wrapped in Steve’s sheets.

Around four he started glancing at his phone’s watch every few minutes, willing the time to pass faster. He only had to make it another two hours and he could get Sarah and go outside. 

He accomplished to stay on the couch for seventy minutes before he got up, grumbling, and went to get his little one dressed.

Steve even managed _ not _ to check in on Bucky before he headed out the door. 

At least the fresh morning air helped to clean his head a little. 

Sarah was awake, babbling along happily while he pushed her stroller in a fast pace. He still wasn’t supposed to exercise, but he felt the need to move. 

A few regulars, who recognized him, waved in greeting. Steve was glad that he hadn’t been in the mood to shave while he was at the hospital - there had been a few nurses offering a hand - because now, he looked like the homeless dad again, they all were used to. 

Walking through the park, his thoughts wandered back to the evening before. 

Bucky had been reluctant to talk to Steve. What bothered him was, that he didn’t know why. When they had fought while Bucky was still controlled by Hydra, Steve had mostly just defended himself, not wanting to hurt his friend. The few times he had to, were absolutely necessary to stop the heli-carriers from killing everyone. 

So was he careful around Steve, afraid to trigger a violent response? 

Or maybe Bucky was just tired? 

It was a reasonable thought, especially considering how Bucky had looked when he appeared in Steve’s door. There was no sign that he had access to a proper meal, bed or shower over the last two weeks. And on top of that he had been wounded. Anyone who was chased like he probably was, deserved to be exhausted. 

Either way, Steve really hoped his friend would rest as long as possible. 

They were on their way back after roughly an hour when Steve’s phone chimed. 

It was a text from Sam, the para-rescue he had met in D.C. 

> _ Hey Cap. You okay? Flight back to NY good? How’s the little one? _

He had promised to let Sam know how everything went and if he needed something, now that they were back home in New York. His newfound friend even offered to come visit for a while, if he needed help with anything. 

Steve had thought about it for a brief moment, afraid to be alone with his thoughts about Bucky, somewhere out there in the world, hunted by governments and Hydra. 

But now that Bucky was here and Steve could take care of him, he was afraid of something else entirely: What if someone found out? 

_ Technically _ Bucky was a fugitive. 

Steve knew that he had been forced to do all those things and if anyone asked him, Bucky shouldn’t be punished. In fact, he was just as much of a victim as the ones he had been ordered and forced to kill. So, his time with Hydra had been more than enough to make up for everything he ever did or would do. But sadly there were enough important people who thought otherwise. 

Could Steve hide his friend? How long would it take until someone discovered that Bucky hadn’t returned to Eastern Europe - like most of the intelligence community suspected - but was still in the country. 

For now Steve was on leave again because he suffered a major injury - and his employer didn’t exist anymore - but wouldn’t it look suspicious if he holed up into his apartment all the time? 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, checking if Sarah was still asleep out of reflex. On top of all these things, he really didn’t need his daughter to learn how to curse.

Steve shot a quick text back to Sam, saying that everything was okay and that both he and Sarah were just a little bit tired. Even though Sam might understand, Steve didn’t dare to take any risks until he had talked to Bucky. 

Which led him back to his current problem number one: He _ had _ to talk to Bucky, ask if he had any plans. If it were for Steve to choose, Bucky would stay with them as long as possible. But he needed to know what his friend thought. 

With a sigh he quickened his step. He would make a short stop at the coffee shop, bring some back home for Bucky and himself and maybe they could talk over breakfast. 

Second problem: if Bucky stayed, he would need a few things. While Steve didn’t mind sharing his home, his clothes and his his belongings in general - especially not with Bucky - his friend would surely be more comfortable having possessions of his own though. But shopping for clothes that weren’t his size could turn out to be problematic if someone - Nat - started to suspect something. 

Third problem: They also needed more food if Bucky planned to stay. Steve already ate enough for three and if Bucky’s metabolism was anything like his, the groceries Pepper had bought for him, weren’t enough to last them a few days. 

Half an hour later, coffee in one hand and pushing Sarah’s stroller with the other, Steve walked down his hallway. Before he could even reach for his keys, Bucky held the door open for them. 

“Thanks, Buck,” he commented with a wide grin. “And good morning.”

Bucky simply nodded, his eyes fixed on Sarah, who’s hands reached for him. 

“Could you take her for a second? I need to put this down,” Steve gestured with the coffee in his hand. “And I want to get out of these warm clothes.”

The spark of joy was obvious in Bucky’s eyes as soon as he had a valid reason to pick up Sarah. 

It was as if they had never done anything else. 

While Steve took off his boots and coat, Bucky did the same for Sarah with surprisingly smooth movements. He headed towards the kitchen in front of Steve, Sarah perched on his right hip, and went ahead to place her in her high chair. 

Steve stopped stunned in the doorway. 

He had brought coffee along so Bucky could sit down with it while he prepared breakfast for all of them, but it was all taken care off. 

There were eggs and bacon, pancakes and fruit, powdered sugar and maple sirup. Bucky had even prepared tea for Sarah in a little sippy-cup and on the stove was something that looked like oatmeal. 

“Did you - You made breakfast?” Steve sounded as surprised as he felt. 

Bucky halted on his way over to the stove with a jolt. A blush crept over his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I thought -” He didn’t finish but looked down at his feet instead.

Steve hurried over to place the coffee on the table. “Buck,” he carefully reached to touch his friend’s shoulder. “I think it’s very nice of you.” 

With a reassuring smile he handed him the black coffee he had picked up. “Here, I thought you might like that.” 

Bucky took the paper cup and eyed it curiously. With a frown he held it to his nose and took a whiff. “Coffee?” he asked and looked up, right into Steve’s eyes for the first time that morning. 

Heart skipping a beat, Steve nodded. “Yeah. I have mocha, too, if you prefer that.” 

“Mocha?” 

Steve handed him the other cup. “It’s with chocolate,” he explained and something in Bucky’s eyes lit up. He reached for the second cup, his fingers brushing against Steve’s. 

Again he brought the cup up to smell the beverage, but this time, he took a sip too and his eyes went wide in surprise. 

Steve couldn’t keep the grin from spreading on his lips. “Good, huh?” he asked and Bucky nodded. 

Still grinning and probably looking like a fool, Steve went over to the fridge to pour some milk in the black coffee that he had originally bought for Bucky. His friend had used to love it back in the forties, but then again, so had Steve. Now they had all those fancy and sweet drinks and he couldn’t resist. 

Maybe tomorrow he could bring something else? And then in two days something new again, until Bucky had tasted everything his preferred coffee shop had on the menu. 

Chiding himself for being stupid, Steve went to check on Sarah’s oatmeal. It was useless to get his hopes up that Bucky would stay with them. They hadn’t talked yet, and as far as Steve knew, could have prepared breakfast as a thank you and goodbye. 

While Steve stirred the oatmeal and was caught up in his thoughts, Bucky moved around him. He checked the temperature of Sarah’s tea with his flesh hand before he placed it in front of her. Then he handed her an apple slice from the plate of fruit he had prepared. 

“I hope this is okay,” he murmured five minutes later as Steve sat down on the opposite side of Sarah. “There was this list -” Shifting in his seat he turned towards the kitchen counter. 

Steve knew which list he was talking about. Even after a year of caring for his daughter, Steve still turned to online advice and parenting books regularly. To make sure Sarah was properly fed and healthy, he had printed out a meal plan and pinned it on the wall over his coffee machine. 

“It’s perfect, Buck,” he assured him and the corner of Bucky’s lips twitched. 

In between chewing on her apple, Sarah babbled excitedly, reaching for Bucky’s metal hand over and over again. He made tapping sounds on her little plastic table, and she squealed delighted. 

Steve grinned like a lunatic. 

The eggs were a bit heavy on the salt, the pancakes a bit dry, but Steve couldn’t remember the last time he had been this happy. 

The answer probably was never. 

This was everything he had always dreamed off. It was homey, Bucky was there and so was his daughter. 

Steve tried so hard to focus on the moment, forget, that the problems piled up in front of his door and that he couldn’t ignore them forever. 

No matter how much he longed to. 

They ate their breakfast without saying a word. Both of them were focused on Sarah. Steve fed her the oatmeal before she clapped her hand against his. Then she would turn around to Bucky, clap his metal hand and wait for him to make the tapping sounds. It went on for half an hours, both men shoveling food into their mouths whenever Sarah was focused on the other. 

After Sarah finished her food she reached for her sippy-cup. With an expression, too serious for the squishy face of a one year old, she held it out to Bucky. His friend reached for it, but with a frown, Sarah pulled her hand back. 

“Ba-e!”, she protested, holding the cup out again. 

Confused Bucky looked towards Steve. 

“Sarah, honey,” he called his daughter to get her attention. 

When she turned around in her seat to look at him, he held out his own cup of coffee. With a grin she bumped her sippy-cup against it. She took a quick sip, turned to Bucky and held her cup out once again.

“Ba-e,” she demanded and Bucky grinned. He reached for his cup, holding it close enough so that Sarah could bump it with another delighted squeal. 

After breakfast Steve asked Bucky to put Sarah down for her mid-morning nap while he cleaned the kitchen. They met again in the living room. The easy mood from breakfast, gone. 

“So,” Steve began, sitting down of his couch. He wasn’t sure what else to say, so he stayed quiet and looked to Bucky expectantly. 

But his friend seemed just as lost for words as he felt. 

“I should probably go,” Bucky whispered after minutes of silence. He kept his gaze on the floor, standing in the doorway. 

“Do you have to?” The words fell out of Steve’s mouth before he could think of them. And even though he sounded more desperate than he cared to admit, they reflected what he felt. 

He didn’t want Bucky to leave. Steve wanted him to stay here and take care of him. 

Bucky looked up, surprised at this words. “What do you mean?” 

“You could stay.”

“Steve-” 

They stared at each other, Steve sitting on the couch and Bucky still in the doorway. 

With a sigh Steve got up. “Wait here,” he told Bucky before he went to fetch his old sketchbook. In there were drawings and pictures of Sarah’s first year on earth and- 

“What’s that,” Bucky asked when Steve handed him a folded piece of paper. 

Steve shrugged. “Open it.” 

With a frown Bucky did as he was told. His jaw dropped reading the words. 

“What -” 

He sighed and returned to sit on the couch. This time Bucky followed and sat down next to him. 

“This was tucked in with her. Her mother left her on my doorstep.” Burying his face in his hands, Steve’s words came out muffled. “When I first realized that someone dropped of a baby on my doorstep I was so afraid. I thought that it’d be better for her if I found a good family. How could I raise her? The thought recurred again and again; every fever, every night she screamed and every mistake I made, I wondered if I made a terrible mistake keeping her.”  
Bucky looked as if he wanted to say something, but Steve gestured for him to wait.

“I know that I’m doing a decent enough job, because her doctor said so, but what if someone else could do it better?” A sad smile overtook his lips. “I love her more than anything, but every time I doubt myself as her parent, this letter is the reason I keep going on.”

Frowning Bucky looked down. Steve knew what he focused on. _ Someone who knew Rebecca Barnes. _ After a year, those words were still powerful enough to punch the air right out of Steve’s lungs. 

And Bucky didn’t seem to take it any better. 

“Becca,” he whispered, his voice broken. “I think -” Bucky’s voice broke and he had to clear his throat before he could continue to speak, his brows furrowed in concentration. “I think I remember her.”

“What do you remember, Buck?” 

“Ice cream. Vanilla. A stain on a red dress.” 

Steve knew what he was talking about. “You were fourteen that summer. A friend of your colleague of your dad married and your entire family was invited. Finding a suit for you wasn’t that hard. You had been tall enough already so your mom could alter one of your father’s but Becca needed a dress. She begged your parents for months, and with the upcoming wedding they finally gave in and bought her the red dress.” 

Bucky’s gaze returned to the letter and he carefully touched his sister’s name with his flesh hand. “What happened?” 

Steve wasn’t sure if he wanted to smile or cry at the memory. “The seamstress delivered it two weeks before the wedding. Every afternoon when I came over, Becca would show it to us. She was so proud. But you mom had forbidden her to wear it before the wedding -” 

“She asked you to draw how her skirt flew up when she spun around really fast,” Bucky interrupted him and Steve’s heartbeat quickened.

“Yes!” He grinned at his best friend. “I promised her to do it after the wedding, maybe on a Sunday after church -”

“But she insisted.” A faint smile spread on Bucky’s lips and it was as if his entire face lit up.

Steve couldn’t help but stare, but clean, rested and smiling, Bucky resembled the man he once knew more and more. 

“We came home from school the Thursday before the wedding. She had snuck out in the dress and met us in the park on our way back. She pestered me until I finally caved and agreed to sketch her dress.”

“And the ice-cream?” Bucky sounded curious. 

Steve grinned. “We nearly made it to your parent’s place when one of the neighbors asked you to help him. You did and he gave you a little money. You insisted that a lady as beautiful as Becca needed to be spoiled and you bought her ice-cream.”

Bucky looked up, surprised. “We went to get some and she didn’t eat it fast enough. It melted and dropped on her dress.”

“Yes,” Steve confirmed. “We all rushed home, trying to get the stain out before your mother would notice it.” 

“Did we make it?”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “Becca was devastated, cried the rest of the day because she thought the dress was ruined forever.”

Bucky frowned. “Did she get in trouble?” 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “Your mom was furious, but mostly because no one knew where Becca had been. You tried to step up and make excuses for Becca, while your mom ordered her to get changed. She thought that it was very nice of you to buy her ice-cream, but that next time, you should ask first.”  
A relieved sigh escaped Bucky’s lips. “So everything went well?”

“It did.” For a moment Steve was silent. “Your mom was too nice to chide you guys over a simple stain. She made Becca help her do the laundry for the next few weeks, but then everything was good again.”

Bucky slumped down in the cushions next to Steve.

“What is it?” Steve asked, wondering why his friend suddenly looked so sad again.

“I can’t remember.” 

Reaching out to comfort him, Steve carefully placed a hand on Bucky’s. “It’s okay. You can ask me everything. I will tell you as much as I know and many things I’m sure we can piece together.”  
Bucky looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You sure?” 

Steve nodded. “Buck, we _ always _managed the impossible. We can manage this, too.” 

Silence overcame the two men, Steve’s hand still covering Bucky’s. 

His skin was warm, the feeling bleeding through his own skin and slowly making his way up his arm. He told himself that he kept his hand there to comfort Bucky, but it wasn’t true, was it? 

Steve kept his hand there for his own, selfish reasons, longing for the contact to the person he was closest to, even after seventy years apart. 

Minutes went by without either of them talking. Steve listened for sounds coming from Sarah’s room, but everything was quiet. 

Should he withdraw his hand? He cast a quick glance down, wondered what it would feel like if Bucky turned his hand around, palm upside. 

How it would feel to interlace their fingers.

They held hands before, when they were kids. It had been innocent back then, Bucky pulling him along into their next great adventure. Sometimes holding Steve’s hand while he was too sick to move away from his bed. 

It felt different now. 

Was Steve allowed to like it? Maybe, but he knew he shouldn’t. Men held hands all the time now, it wasn’t anything unusual even though after first coming out of the ice he had needed time to get used to the sight of it. 

A year before he came back, New York even legalized the same sex marriage. 

But this was _ Bucky _ \- his best friend, who had been through even more than Steve had, with less time to adjust to the new century. And Steve knew he should stop. 

Bucky’s hand beneath his twitched, and Steve cast a quick glance sideways. His friend was still focused on the letter, his eyes roaming over the lines over and over again. The frown on his forehead didn’t seem to go away anymore. 

So maybe Steve could stay like this, just a minute longer. If Bucky minded the contact, then he would surely withdraw his hand, right? 

So why hadn’t he, Steve wondered. 

Was it because the letter demanded his complete attention? Or did he relish in the comforting touch, just as much as Steve did? 

Maybe he would be okay with a hug? 

Before Steve’s thoughts could continue to wander off, Bucky looked up from the paper in his metal hand and gazed into Steve’s eyes. 

“Steve?” He sounded worried. “Can I ask you something?”  
Steve could see the sadness in Bucky’s eyes and he wondered if it were memories or the loss of them that caused it. 

“Sure.” He tried smiling but failed. “You can ask me anything.” 

Bucky sighed and the hand with the letter fell powerless into his lap. “Is Sarah my great-niece?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how did you like it? Was it worth a comment or kudo? :D  
Personally, when re-reading it, I thought it was cute. But cuter things are to come :)  
And a long due talk about Sarah's origin. Some of you have already asked if she's related to Bucky and I guess we'll see next week. 
> 
> Love you guys!


	10. Of Memories and Mysteries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to know a little bit about the past and Steve's thoughts on the relation between Sarah and Bucky.

“Is Sarah my great-niece?” Bucky’s brows are furrowed, his face twisted, probably trying to figure out the relationship. “Or would it be great-grand niece?” 

Steve’s heart sank to his stomach. How is he supposed to answer that? 

Back when they first pulled him out of the ice, he looked up everyone he could think of, starting with Bucky’s family, who had been - in a way - his own as well. 

He had missed Rebecca Barnes by just a year. 

“Bucky,” he started, his voice rough. 

Explaining why he thought what he thought, would hurt his best friend. And he had so much on his plate already. So he let the name echo through the silence between them, not continuing to speak. 

Bucky sighed. “I take that as a no.”

“I can’t see how Sarah could be related to you,” Steve says, heart heavy. 

He wants to tell Bucky something else - something that makes him happy and that grounds him in this new reality. If he had any living relatives left it could help with the pain, the memories and the adjustments to this century. 

But his words have the opposite effect. 

“Why do you say that?” Bucky asked, sounding slightly panicked.

With a sigh Steve buries his hand in his face. 

“Steve what do you know?” 

“Rebecca didn’t have grandchildren.”

Bucky’s mouth closes, pressed into a thin line. “Tell me.” 

It isn’t a question and Steve knows, that there’s no way around this now.

“When I woke up from the ice, I looked up people I used to know. Agent Carter, the Howlie’s, your family.” 

“Becca?” 

Steve nodded. “She was the first one I looked for. I had hoped so much to see her again.” It came out, a whisper barely audible. 

He lifted his head to look into Bucky’s eyes. “She died peacefully in her sleep, a few months before I came back.” His voice broke. “I only could visit her grave,” he added in a whisper. 

Bucky’s gaze fell to his hands that he kept folded in his lap. 

Steve watched as the knuckles of his flesh hand turned white and the joints of the metal one cracked. 

“I want to see it,” he demanded. 

The only thing Steve could do was nod. “I’ll take you whenever you want.” 

Bucky gave him a short not without looking at Steve, but he seemed to ease up. “Tell me more.” 

He wasn’t sure if he should. 

Becca hadn’t been his sister by blood. Steve had met her when she was two years old. Only then he got to watch her grow up.

Bucky however had been around her all the time - he was her brother. He had been there for scraped knees, nightmares and her first broken heart. The things Steve had learned would hurt him so much more. 

“You sure, Buck?” He eyed his friend estimatedly. “We can do it later.” 

“No. I want to know now.”

Steve nodded and headed towards the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later with two cups of tea. “Here,” he handed one of them over. “Maybe this will help.”

Sighing inwardly, Steve took his place next to Bucky once again. 

“Okay, so I only know the basics of Becca’s life. Sometimes Peggy would start telling stories about her, but it was all confusing. I asked her niece about them, Sharon, and she told me as much as she knew.” Shifting uncomfortable in his seat, Steve continued. “Everything else is from files, which they only let me see because I’m Captain America.” He waited for a response form Bucky - words, a movement or a nod - but his friend stayed rigid and quiet. 

Steve cleared his throat. “Okay, so Becca got married in 1947. There was this guy, Robert Proctor, in the tenement next to ours; moved there when we were about twelve. He was a grade beneath me and nice. I think he was one of the guys from the neighborhood you used to play ball with. Was drafted few months before the war was over.”

His friend nodded absentmindedly and Steve wasn’t sure if he should continue. Or maybe it was meant to be a proof, that Bucky remembered these things. He waited until Bucky looked up, his eyes demanding more information. 

“Your mom died shortly after their wedding.” Steve blurted out together with a deep breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding. 

For the fracture of a second he could see Bucky’s eyes widening, before he put his poker face back in place. Steve wanted to hug him, comfort his friend like he did when his own mom had died, but after everything that happened, he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. Their boundaries weren’t nonexistent anymore. 

“You know why?” Bucky’s question was asked so quietly, that Steve nearly missed it. 

His brows furrowed. “I’m not sure. Peggy - Agent Carter apparently went to visit Becca once when they did one of the first exhibits on the Howling Commandos. According to Becca, they knew it was coming.” He sighed. It had been an awful conversation for him when he learned all those things. Steve couldn’t even imagine how Bucky would feel. “Your mom couldn’t live with your death. Becca’s and Roberts wedding was one of the last days she seemed happy.”

“What about my father?” 

“Two years later.” 

Bucky nodded. “Why?”   
“No apparent reason, but I guess losing you and your mom took its toll on him.” Steve tried to keep his voice as soothing as possible. But he knew that there was no easy, painless way of telling this. 

“Uh,” Steve picked up after a while of silence where they just sat there, staring at their teas. “So, Robert had a job at a bank. Made good money so Becca stayed home, first to look after your parents, then her kids. Did a lot of charity as well.”

“Charity?” Bucky sounded surprised.

Nodding, Steve put down his cup. “Yeah, apparently she helped vets that returned from Europe and had nowhere to go, took care of orphaned children and widows. Did a lot of awareness and fundraising campaigns in Brooklyn and Queens.” He couldn’t hold back the grin that spread on his face. “Sharon told me that Peggy told her she once witnessed a screaming match between Beacca and this old guy. Told her that women’s suffrage had been a mistake, she shouldn’t waste her time with scum like homeless people and fairies.”

A wistful smile took hold of Bucky as well. “I don’t remember her well -” 

“Yet,” Steve interrupted him. 

“- but from what I can remember, Becca would be the person to get into these kind of fights.”   
“You used to say you’d be grey by thirty because of Becca and me,” Steve reminded. 

Bucky nodded, the faint smile still on his lips. “From what I hear that’s reasonable.” He sighed. “You know how the screaming match ended?” 

“According to Sharon, Becca became real quiet when he dropped that insult. Apparently he thought he’d one and told her that her being too dumb to even answer him was proof enough that women should stay at home, cook and give birth. She asked why he thought that she would answer him after he just told her not to waste her time with scum.” Bucky huffed out a laugh and Steve’s heart felt like it grew twice its size. “A lot of bystanders applauded from what I hear.”

“She sounds amazing.” 

Throwing all care into the wind, Steve reached out for his friend. It was as if he suddenly lost all control over his body and followed a natural instinct - the instinct to take care of and comfort Bucky.    
When his hand made contact with Bucky’s shoulder, his friend didn’t jolt or withdrew himself from the touch. Instead he leaned into it, shifting his body towards the warmth Steve radiated next to him. 

And the fluttering in Steve’s stomach was definitely a reminder of his injuries. 

Clearing his throat in a failed attempt to get rid of the strange sensation, Steve picked up on his story about Becca’s life. “She took part in the Civil Rights movement and the Women’s liberation as well, organized political get togethers and everything, trying to educate people on their rights. Sharon said she turned into a Brooklyn icon.”   
Bucky’s eyes gleamed with something Steve couldn’t point out for certain. It could have been pride but also tears. “Really?”

Nodding, Steve turned his body more towards Bucky. “Yeah, she’s even mentioned in a few of the books they made me read when I came back. In public there’s not much known about her private life, only her political activities, but I guess being your sister she had a voice that was to be heard.”   
His friend looked shocked. “Why has this to do anything with me?”

Steve frowned. Right, Bucky wouldn’t know. They kept him under for the last seventy years. “Buck, you appear in all of the history school books, there are expositions and some biographies written about you.”

“Why?” 

_ Why not? _ , Steve wanted to ask.  _ You deserve all the attention and admiration in the world. They picture me as the perfect soldier that always followed orders when all I ever wanted to do was follow your lead, make you proud to be my friend. I just wanted to be the person you believed me to be. _

But Steve said none of that. It was neither the time nor the place to do so. So he simply went with “you’re a World War II hero.” 

Bucky grimaced, clearly uncomfortable. 

And Steve understood. After all he had wanted to join the army to do what was right - not for his face to be plastered all around the world for the next decades. 

They sat in silence for a while, Steve allowing Bucky to process all the information he had just given him. 

Sarah waking up from her nap interrupted them and before Steve could even think about getting up, Bucky was out of his seat and on his way to Sarah. 

Steve let him go but listened carefully. 

The door to Sarah’s room squeaked a little when Bucky opened it - not loud, just enough for his super soldier hearing to pick it up. His little one seemed to notice Bucky, if one was to believe the exited chanting of his name (or rather her version of it). 

He heard Bucky mutter in Russian, words that sounded oddly familiar from when Nat visited and suddenly a wave of longing overcame Steve. 

Bucky just  _ fit _ . 

It was as if he never went away, as if they never had been separated. Taking care of Sarah seemed to be as natural for Bucky as it was to Steve now. 

For Steve it painted a very clear picture - he wanted Bucky to be around as long as possible. In whichever capacity he wanted to be around. 

Steve would take everything his friend was willing to give. 

They spend the rest of the morning playing with Sarah and Steve showed Bucky the exercises he did with her. 

Sarah seemed to enjoy the fact, that for once it wasn’t just Steve who crawled around the apartment with her on his back. 

Bucky tried to hide it, but from time to time when Sarah got a bit rough with his shoulder, he flinched. Steve hid that he noticed it, but made a point in picking up Sarah, every time he caught his friend. 

After lunch they settled on the couch again. Sarah wasn’t yet bored out of her mind, so Steve would allow himself to take as much rest as he could.    
She started fussing though, and screamed for ‘Ba-e’. 

At first they thought she meant Bucky himself, so he took her out of Steve’s arms and cradled her to his chest. He swayed her, murmured soothing words in Russian Steve couldn’t understand and even tried to make her chew on his metal finger, but nothing calmed her down. 

It honestly took a while until it dawned to Steve: she missed her teddy bear. 

A hot blush spread over his cheeks. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to introducing the bear he had bought basically for himself, because he missed his friend so much. He didn’t want Bucky to know how pathetic he was. 

“Steve, what am I doing wrong?” his friend asked, after Sarah screamed his name once again. 

He sighed in exasperation. Steve wouldn’t get out of this alive, right? 

“I don’t think she’s referring to you. She wants her bear.”

“Her bear?” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Just lemme get it.” 

He retrieved it from her bedroom and tried to hide it next to his side. The longer it took Bucky to recognize the bear from his memories the better. 

But apparently the universe was out to get him today. 

Sarah’s tiny hands grabbed for the bear and once she wrenched it from Steve’s hands, she thrusted it in Bucky’s face. 

With something that resembled a laugh, Bucky gently pushed the bear down so Sarah could show him properly. When he took a first good look at it, he frowned, before he made all the appropriate noises. 

Sarah’s fit turned down and soon she was dozing against Bucky’s chest. 

“I remember this,” he told Steve, his brows wrinkled in confusion as he stared down at Sarah, who still clung to her bear. 

Steve could feel the heat rising on his face. “Uh, yeah. They made them during the war and -”   
“There was a second version, wasn’t there? It came with a little shield.” 

Stunned to silence, Steve could only nod. 

“But it looks new.”

He nodded again before he found his voice to speak. “Yeah, it’s about five years old. Found it right before Christmas and bought it on impulse. Sarah loves it,” he added, desperately trying to conceal how embarrassed he was. 

But Bucky only nodded, his cheeks slightly tinted with an emotion Steve couldn’t place. Was he embarrassed as well because Steve had bought a bear that was made after a comic figure based on im? Was he stunned that Sarah liked it? Maybe a bit of both? 

He wouldn’t know. 

So instead he talked. “When they first made the Bucky Bear you hated it. Gabe used to carry one around his sister sent him. Always made a show of talking to it when you annoyed him.”

The corners of Bucky’s lips lifted slightly and Steve immediately felt better. 

“You actually came to like it when your mother wrote in a letter that Becca spent all her savings on a bear even though she was nineteen at the time.”

Wrong thing to say, Rogers, he chided himself when Bucky’s faint smile turned to a frown. 

“God, Buck, I’m so sorry -”

“No,” his friend interrupted him, metal hand raised. “It’s okay.” He looked down at Sarah, clutching the Bucky Bear, her tiny nose scrunched in her sleep. “But maybe you could tell me more about Becca’s life?” 

Steve agreed reluctantly. “If you’re sure, Buck.” 

“Yes, please. I have to find out sooner or later anyway.”    
He said it with such resignation that Steve wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around him. Steve was strong now - he could be a safety blanket around Bucky and take care that nothing ever hurt Bucky again. If Bucky wanted, he would make sure that they would never have to leave their apartment again, just staying here holed up with Sarah on the couch.

The rational part of Steve’s brain however knew, that his friend needed answers. 

After all, he had needed them, too, and even though they had been painful at first, they helped to bring his new life into perspective. 

“Okay, so Becca had two sons. George and Alex. George was born after your father died, so I guess they decided to name him in his honor.”

Bucky distractedly pushed a strand of hair behind Sarah’s ear. “That’s nice. Kinda like with Sarah and your mom.”   
Steve nodded. “Yeah, I love it, too.” He smiled down at his daughter before he leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek. 

“So, Becca’s sons.” That was the hard part, the one he didn’t want to tell, but he knew he had to.”

“You said Becca didn’t have grandchildren, so I guess neither of them got married?” 

Steve shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

Bucky looked up to him - really looked at Steve for the first time since he stumbled through his door - the plea written in those blueish grey depths. 

Steve knew he was supposed to talk, tell more about Becca’s children and explain why neither of them got married or had children. There was so much left to tell him and then Steve would have to make sure Bucky was okay, but this direct look shocked him. 

It was the first time in seven decades that it was really Bucky who looked at him. 

Not the Winter Soldier - he had Bucky’s looks and the eyes in his handsome face were of the same colour, but they had either been empty or full of frightened confusion. Neither of those were looks Steve was familiar with in his best friend’s eyes. 

It wasn’t the look in Sarah’s eyes either, that looked so much like Bucky’s, that he sometimes wondered if Sarah was a godsend present for Steve. A present, that would make him feel a connection to his past and that somehow, at the same time, anchored him to the present. Sarah’s eyes were innocent. She didn’t know yet how to use them to get what she wanted - even though she wouldn’t need to anyway. But it was the same colour, that made his heart stop sometimes, when his mind wandered off. 

It wasn’t past Bucky’s pleading look. Steve knew it well from whenever he was urged to accompany his friend on double dates and to Brooklyn’s dancing halls. 

No, it was the same pleading look his Bucky had during the war. The one he gave Steve whenever he felt uncomfortable with his decisions. The one that was cast when he silently begged Steve not to put himself into unnecessary danger. 

It used to be followed up with a sarcastic remark to loosen the tension between them. 

And Steve wasn’t sure whether he held his breath, waiting for this new Bucky next to him to say something else, transfer himself into the version of his best friend that Steve once knew better than himself, or if he was just too caught up in his feeling to speak. 

But the new Bucky didn’t say anything else, so Steve was left with no other option. He cleared his throat to continue his recount of Becca’s life. 

“Uh, George joined the army in 1969. Lost the draft lottery.” 

Steve felt as if there was nothing he could tell Bucky without hurting him.

As soon as he mentioned the Draft lottery, Bucky flinched visibly. Of course out of the few things Bucky remembered from before the war, this was one of them. 

Back when Bucky first joined the army, Steve had no idea that it hadn’t been voluntarily. When he told Steve he had made it sound exciting and, after he returned from camp, fun. Only after Steve rescued him from Hydra in Azzano and caught a glimpse at his dog tags for the first time, he knew that his friend had lied to him. It took Steve another two months to work up the courage to talk to Bucky, ask him why he had a draft-number. 

Bucky had been drunk that evening, mumbling about how he couldn’t leave Steve behind, that he would get himself killed without Bucky saving his ass every other day. 

Steve hadn’t been sure what to feel for a week. 

Now, he was pretty sure, he wanted to kick his own ass. 

Bucky was one of those unfortunate souls who had lost the Draft lottery. It not only had cost him his life, but his sanity and his independence for the last seventy years. And Steve brought it up like it was not more relevant than the week’s groceries. 

When Steve dared to look into Bucky’s face again, it was closed off of all emotions. 

“When did he die?”

It broke Steve’s heart that, even though it technically was a question, it didn’t sound like one. Bucky knew already that George had died far from home. 

“‘74,” Steve muttered the number quietly. 

His friend simply nodded. “What about Alex?”   
Steve sighed. It wasn’t healthy to bottle up one’s emotions, he knew that, but who was he to judge?

“Tried to get in after George -” He cleared his throat. “Quit high school and tried to get in, too, but the war ended before he was successful. Returned to school. As soon as the Iraq War started he quit his job at the bank and enlisted again. Was medically discharged in 1985 and returned to his old job.” 

“No children, though,” Bucky stated. He knew that already. Steve had told him as soon as he asked if he was related to Sarah. 

He shook his head. “No children, no.” Steve paused before he decided he might as well tell the end of the story now. There was no real reason to hold back when Bucky obviously wanted to know everything.

But before Steve could continue, Bucky spoke. 

“He died, too, didn’t he?” The smile he gave Steve was sad and empty. “If he was still alive you would have told me.”

Steve let out a breath he didn’t knew he held. “Yes. Buck, I’m so sorry, but yes. He died in ‘91.” 

His friend nodded. “Cause?” 

“Suicide,” Steve whispered with a frown. 

“Oh.”

Just like before, Steve reached out for Bucky’s hand to offer comfort. He didn’t react, just kept staring at the sleeping Sarah in his lap. 

“So she’s really not mine.” Again, it was uttered as a statement and not as a question. 

With a frown Steve shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s no way, Buck.”

They sat in silence for a while. Both their gazes were focused on the little girl that was entirely unbothered by the day’s revelations. Steve wanted to say something helpful, but it took him a while before it came to his mind. 

“You know,” he started and waited a moment until he was sure to have Bucky’s attention. “I’m not related to Sarah by blood either, but I couldn’t love her more. She’s in every sense of the word my daughter, except for the biological.” His heart did a little jump in his chest when he noticed the faint smile on Bucky’s lips. “So there’s no reason why you couldn’t love her just the same.”

Bucky nodded as if he was in deep thought. “I guess I hoped some of my family were still around.” 

A wistful smile crept its way onto Steve’s face and he had no way of stopping it. “After my mom died, I only had you. When I came back I had nothing. Peggy’s still around but it’s not the same anymore and it took me a long time to see the Avengers as my new family.” He reached out to caress Sarah’s cheek. “I needed her before I could accept that maybe this new century isn’t so bad afterall.” Steve reached for Bucky’s upper arm and waited until his friend looked at him. “You and your family took me in when I needed it the most. Let us do the same. Sarah and I-” he stumbled over his words. “If you want, you can just stay here.”

Steve imagined there was something hopeful in Bucky’s eyes. Yet he didn’t seem to be convinced. “What about your Avengers?”

“I’ll handle them,” Steve assured him. “Once the whole Shield/Hydra fiasco has cooled down, I’ll talk to them. It wasn’t your fault, Buck.”

“I still did it.” His smile was filled with regret and Steve wasn’t sure what to say. 

So they stayed silent for a while and it was surprisingly Bucky who spoke again. 

“But I can stay,” he stopped Steve’s response with his hand. “I’ll only stay as long as the risk for you and Sarah isn’t too high.”

“I told you I could take care of the Avengers and -”

“Steve, it’s not just the Avengers,” he interrupted him. “After the Black Widow released most of my files it’s governments, agencies and organisations all over the world that are looking for me.” Bucky shook his head as if Steve should already know this. “The remnants of Hydra are looking for me, I’m sure. There will be many more, either to get revenge or make use of the Asset. I’ll stay, but only as long as it’s safe for you.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to shake his head with an angry frown. “I’m strong now, Bucky,” he reminded him. “I have my shield. I’m no longer the skinny kid with more health issues a person can have. I can protect Sarah and myself.”   
“But you shouldn’t have to. Not because of me.”   
Steve snorted. “Oh come on, Buck. I’m Captain America. I’m sure there are enough bad guys out there that would love to get their hands on me and, by proxy, Sarah. Be it for revenge or trying to recreate the serum.” Bucky’s expression changed from stern to worried. ”It’s why I keep my private life as secret as possible. It’s why no one knows about Sarah.”

With a sigh Bucky shifted in his seat to lean back. “You won’t let it go, aren’t you?”

“Why would I? You’re the jerk that won’t shut up, Buck.”

“Punk.”

Steve sat there, mouth agape, too stunned to answer. The ‘jerk’ had been an accident, the conversation too similar to ones they had before to not call Bucky a jerk. Never would he have thought that Bucky remembered enough to call him a punk. 

It was silly, Steve knew as much, but it made him dizzy with joy. 

“What?” Bucky sounded panicked. “What did I say?” 

“No- Nothing,” Steve stuttered. “It’s nothing. Just that you always used to call me that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-”

“No, it’s okay. I was just surprised.”

Bucky nodded in understanding, before both men got lost in their own thoughts. 

After a while Sarah woke up from her nap, demanding their attention. 

Steve showed Bucky how to change her diapers and dress her, told him where all his research was. Later, while Steve cooked their dinner, Bucky read through one of the folders while he occupied Sarah. 

When they put her to bed together, Steve finally managed to ask the question that had been burning on his tongue for hours now. 

“So, you’re staying then?” he whispered, while he watched Bucky straighten himself after he gave Sarah a goodnight kiss. 

Bucky nodded. “For now, at least.” 

Steve grinned and couldn’t stop himself from pulling his best friend in a hug. “Stay as long as you want.” He told him. “Sarah and I - we love to have you here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Steve thinks there's no way Sarah is related to Bucky. But then again, he doesn't have to, to love her, right?  
What are your thoughts on that matter? 
> 
> And no cliffhanger this week? I know, I have no idea what happened, but the chapter was so angsty that I needed a nice ending. You get one next week though :) 
> 
> On another note:  
I think we'll end at 15 chapters + one epiloge. I have 12 written now, and the rest planned out.  
What I also have, are plans for a prequel and sequels, so I'm turning this thing into a series. The prequel and sequels will mostly be one-shots, snippets from their lives and background stories, for example about Sarah's mom. So if you're interested, keep your eyes open :) 
> 
> And thank you! Thank you so much for the responses for this story. I wouldn't have dared to dream about receiving so many comments and kudos. You guys are the best and I love you. <3


	11. Two Guys and a little Troublemaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve get's to know the green eyes monster. I think it's hilarious

In the end they had agreed to alternate - one night Bucky took the bed and the other night Steve did. It worked well enough, at least for Steve who didn’t really mind sleeping on the couch to give Bucky space. 

After another week at home Steve felt good enough to go for his morning runs. As a bonus, the beard has grown long enough again for people not to recognise him as Captain America. 

While he was out, Sarah stayed with Bucky. 

The night before he went for this first run, he told Bucky what he was going to do. He didn’t want his friend to wake up to an empty apartment without knowing that Steve and Sarah would be back in roughly an hour. 

Bucky had offered to watch Sarah so Steve could enjoy a couple of minutes alone and he took him up on it. 

When he returned home - exhausted and sweaty from a much faster run than he normally did with Sarah - his daughter was in her high chair in the kitchen and Bucky at the stove, preparing breakfast. 

Steve chose not to dwell on how much he embraced the domesticity of it. 

It was hard though, especially when Bucky told him to take a quick shower because “the Omelette needs another five minutes”.

He kept quiet and took his shower. 

It was odd, how easy Bucky seemed to fit into their rhythm. 

As Shield, aka his employer, no longer existed, Steve found himself once again in the role of the stay-at-home dad. And even though Sarah was much more fun to play with now, she still was only a year old. It wasn’t as if he could hold highly intellectual debates with her.

Bucky - although scared of Steve’s reaction - made the decision to let Sarah sleep half an hour longer while Steve was on his run. He turned into an anxious, blabbering mess, that was in no way like the feared Winter Soldier Steve had encountered a few weeks back, as he explained that it was easier for him to have Sarah and the breakfast ready when Steve returned. 

Steve had been shocked. This was an entirely new side of Bucky he had never seen before. Neither was he cocky or sure in his demeanor but awkward and shy. 

Bucky even blushed when Steve put his hand on his shoulder to stop the waterfall of an explanation. 

Steve insisted on doing the clean-up after breakfast so Bucky had time to get himself ready for the day. Afterwards they met in the living room. 

During the first week Steve kept checking on Bucky’s injuries twice a day until they were too faded to longer justify his worries. And he was only allowed to do so when he relented and let Bucky check his wounds as well. 

Before his sabbatical had ended, Steve had played on the floor with Sarah in the morning, mostly to help her gain strength to crawl and walk around. When she was old enough for Steve to take his hands off her for a few seconds, tummy time had turned into a workout for himself. Now, with Bucky around, he felt conscious to do it. 

It was weird to work out next to someone reading a book, right? 

So he tried only doing it when Bucky was somewhere else in the apartment - in the bathroom or in the kitchen to get himself another bottle of water. But of course Bucky noticed and asked him why he stopped doing whatever he did when he wasn’t around. 

Steve blushed and told him and Bucky joined them on the floor to do push-ups. 

It was a little bit concerning how easy Bucky blended into their lives and Steve constantly worried that his friend didn’t dare to ask for things he wanted. Or that Bucky simply ignored things that made him uncomfortable and just did them because he felt that Steve wanted him to.

Time and time again he asked for Bucky’s opinion or what he preferred, but his friend always managed to talk himself out of a decision. 

Steve felt as if Bucky tried to be not at the apartment with them. 

Not once did he leave something lying around, not even a dirty knife in the sink. He always cleaned or hid on the armchair with a book. 

Bucky only did things when Steve asked him to, they obviously had to be done or Sarah demanded his attention. Then he suddenly turned into a cheerful, super-attentive version of himself that could patiently play with Sarah’s toys for hours.

It was frustrating. 

Eventually Steve snapped.

For everyone that lived with a roommate once in their life, it wouldn’t make sense. It didn’t even make sense to Steve and still growled at his best friend. 

“Oh, for God’s sake, Bucky, throw these away!” It wasn’t that Steve yelled, not really, but both Sarah and Bucky looked shocked. He never raised his voice. 

Sighing, he picked Sarah up and talked to her calmly, before she could be afraid of his moodswing. 

Then he turned to Bucky and the offending item. 

It were the clothes he had worn the day he stumbled through Steve’s door. They were clean now, thanks to Steve’s washing machine, but there were still slashes where he had been cut by whoever had attacked him. 

“I’m sorry, Buck,” he apologized and mentally willed Bucky to move. His friend looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “I didn’t mean to yell, but you know you don’t have to wear these anymore.”   
He still stared at Steve as if he had grown a second head. 

With a second sigh, he signaled Bucky to follow him to his bedroom, Sarah still on his hip. Steve opened his closet and gestured to his stuff with his free hand. “Take whatever you want or need.”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “But those are your things.” 

Steve shrugged. “I don’t mind Bucky. You take whatever you want or need.”

It didn’t really seem to help. His friend still looked down at his feet as if he preferred to be somewhere else. 

And then it dawned to Steve. “Oh God.” He was such an idiot. The sweatpants he had given Bucky had been the widest he owned. And they were pretty tight on Bucky’s larger frame. Of course he didn’t want to wear Steve’s clothes if not necessary. 

“Get your jacket,” he commanded, halfway out of the room already to get Sarah dressed to go outside. 

Bucky followed them a little lost. “Why?” 

“We’re going to get you some clothes.” 

It was Tuesday shortly after noon. Sarah should fall asleep once they put her into the stroller and, hopefully, there would be less of a crowd out to shop for clothes. 

* * *

All the way to the store Bucky tried to protest. 

Steve decided to ignore him. Instead he chose a higher priced boutique, hoping that there were even less people to be worried about. 

He wasn’t concerned that someone would recognise them - he was still in full bearded dad mode and no one would suspect the Winter Soldier to be out on a shopping spree in broad daylight, dressed in sweatpants. No, Steve was worried that too many people around them would make Bucky even more uncomfortable. 

So he tried to minimize possible encounters.

They were greeted by a cheerful shopping attendant with carefully arranged blonde hair and a smile, that became a lot more genuine when she spotted the two men. 

“Hi. What can I do for you today?” she asked sounding a little breathless. 

“He needs clothes.” Steve pulled the stroller all the way into the shop while he answered her. He was sure Bucky wouldn’t say a thing if he didn’t have to. 

The woman nodded. “Sure thing. Anything special?” She stepped closer to Bucky and crooked her head, still smiling. 

Bucky looked back at Steve, his eyes pleading with his friend. He was sure Bucky meant for them to leave, but Steve chose to take is as begging him to take over. 

He quickly made sure that Sarah was still asleep before he stepped between Bucky and the attendant. “Basically an entire wardrobe. Should be comfortable though,” he added when Bucky flinched next to him. 

She nodded before she gestured for them to followed her deeper into the store. Steve quickly reached for the stroller and maneuvered it around the clothes stands.

“I’m Katherine, by the way,” she told them with another smile thrown at them over her shoulder. 

When they reached a sitting area, Steve parked the stroller at the side, hoping that it would be far enough out of the way for Sarah to sleep. If not, he would have to carry her around with him, hoping it would calm her down. 

“So,” she turned around in something that resembled a twirl. “I assume you’re not usually wearing sweats and an old hoodie?” She winked at Bucky and Steve frowned irritated. “What’s your style?”

Bucky looked lost and this time Steve didn’t know what to say himself. He knew how Bucky dressed before the war - hell, they had dressed in whatever was cheap and suited them for the day - but he had no idea what Bucky preferred these days. 

Katherine nodded as if their silence was all she needed to know. Maybe it was, who knew? 

“Okay, how about I’ll get you a few things and you take a look around as well? Then you try them on and decide what you like?” She didn’t wait for them to agree but returned to the displayed clothes. 

Steve nudged his shoulder against Bucky’s. “Go on, take a look around.”

Awkwardly Bucky turned around towards the next sample of clothes - flannel shirts - that was directly behind him. He eyed them, not really interested before he gasped in shock. 

Steve was at his side immediately. 

“What is it?” 

Bucky shook his hands and took a step back from the display. “Steve, I can’t buy these.”   
He frowned. “Well, technically I’m buying these for you, so why not?”   
There was a deep crease in Bucky’s forehead, that only seemed to deepen at Steve’s words. “Have you looked at the prices?”

Steve shook his head but grinned. “It’s okay, Buck. Don’t worry about it.”

“But Steve -”

“I said don’t worry about it,” he interrupted him. “I’ll pay for it. Take whatever you like. Make sure that you have enough of whatever you need.”

“I won’t let you pay for my clothes, Steve,” Bucky told him in an angry whisper. 

“Have you found anything you like?” Katherine, the shopping attendant interrupted them before Steve could say anything else. 

He decided to take it as a chance and grabbed a flannel that could be Bucky’s size. 

Katherine took it with a frown but didn’t place it on the huge pile on her arm. “Are you sure you want this?” She obviously tried to sound friendlier, but failed. 

Apparently flannel wasn’t acceptable. 

“I mean, the lumberjack-look is totally your style,” she told Steve, who wasn’t sure what she wanted to tell him with that. “But I think for you we should try these.” She turned towards Bucky and shifted the pile of clothes - minus the flannel - into his arms. “It’s a bit darker,” Katherine added with a smirk before she reached for Bucky’s arm. 

He jolted away from her touch but it didn’t stop her. With another wink she led him towards the changing rooms. 

Bucky disappeared behind one of the curtains and Steve - deciding that he didn’t want to stray too far from either of them - picked Sarah up before he followed him and sat down in the waiting area. 

“Steve, are you really sure?” Bucky asked, his voice slightly dimmed through the curtain. 

“Yes, buck. Get whatever you like. Make sure, that you have enough, okay?” 

“But it’s so expensive.”

“For this century it’s actually reasonably priced,” he tried to explain. Steve kept his voice down so the attendant wouldn’t hear them. No normal person would say such a thing. “Besides, my account gathered interest over the last seventy years and I got a huge sum in back pay and my Shield salary, so we’re good.”

He heard Bucky sigh and grinned. Apparently he had won this round. 

Rocking Sarah in his arms so she would stay asleep, Steve listened to Bucky change his clothes. He cursed a bit - Steve couldn’t understand what had offended him because it was all in Russian - but after a few minutes he heard him close a zipper and sigh. 

Before Steve could ask Bucky how he liked the clothes, Katherine appeared out of nowhere with even more clothes perched on her arms and even a pair of black boots dangling from her finger. 

“How are you doing?” she asked through the curtain and slightly shoved it back to look inside. “Hey, you look great!”

The comment made Steve’s stomach churn. As if Bucky would look anything but great, he wanted to tell her, but kept quiet. To distract himself, he focused on Sarah. 

He listened as she handed the new batch of clothes over to Bucky, promising to be back with a different pair of shoes for more casual occurrences. She dashed away and the shuffling of clothes could be heard again. 

Steve had to hand it to her, she was fast. A pair of tennis shoes in her hand he came back within a minute. 

At first it appeared as if she would wait next to Steve until Bucky came out on his own, but then Steve heard another curse that made him look up.

Underneath the curtain Bucky’s flesh hand reached for a discarded shirt that had fallen down - most likely after he had stripped out of it. 

With gleaming eyes, hand stretched out towards the curtain, the shopping attendant stepped forward. “Let me just take a look if -” 

Steve was faster, though. Within a fracture of a second he stood between her and the curtain, protecting Bucky from her view. “Thank you,” he told her with a frown. After shifting Sarah to one arm, he took the shoes from her. “But I think we’ve got it from her.”

With an angry snort she turned around and stomped away. 

He couldn’t help himself, but Steve glared at her back. 

It was to protect Bucky from her view, he told himself. There weren’t many men with a state of the art metal prosthesis. They couldn’t risk someone seeing it. 

And if he made Bucky wait until Katherine was busy with a new client so they could pay with someone else, that was a coincidence. 

* * *

Two weeks later Steve made Bucky come along on a grocery run. 

They had run out of several essential things and even though Steve didn’t mind doing the shopping on his own, it was the same as with Bucky’s clothing: he had no idea what his friend liked and disliked these days. It didn’t help that Bucky only gave non committal answers every time Steve asked. 

So he ordered Bucky to get dressed up on that sunny Tuesday in May.

Steve had dressed in jeans and a t-shirt after his shower right away. The plan had formed during the night when he had been woken up by a nightmare. 

The nightmare itself hadn’t been too bad - nothing he didn’t have before even though it always left him in cold sweat. 

What was worse, were the pained sounds that wafted over from the living room about half an hour into his staring at the ceiling. 

Bucky had nightmares, too. 

When they were kids and had sleepovers - for medical reasons or just for fun - they would just cuddle up to each other if one of them had a bad dream. It had been as natural as breathing back then.

As they grew older they learned to deal with these things alone, but in the back of his mind Steve had always known that, if he needed someone, Bucky would be there to hold him. Just like he would for him. 

Then the war came, Bucky was drafted and captured before Steve could rescue him. 

Many soldiers had nightmares, Steve had them too, but none of them had been held captive and experimented on by Hydra. So somewhere over the course of their shared time in the army, Bucky’s stuff wandered into Steve’s tent so he could ground him after a particularly bad night. 

They never spoke about it and the Howlies never mentioned it. 

It was just how they always worked. 

But that night, seventy years later, Steve wasn’t sure if he was allowed to go there. And while he tried to figure out how to approach his friend to calm him down, the noises from the living room stopped and he could hear Bucky get up to get a glass of water. 

And for Steve there was nothing left to do besides staring at the ceiling again, wondering if he could make Bucky’s life a little bit better. 

So shopping he would take him and let him choose all the stuff he wanted. For once Steve wouldn’t make sure that his shopping was super healthy or able to fill his super soldier stomach. He would splurge on Bucky like his friend deserved to. 

While he waited for Bucky to get dressed in something else than sweatpants and a hoodie, Steve changes Sarah into leggins, romper and sweater. Since it wasn’t too cold outside anymore, he decided to forego the blanket for a jacket so she could walk around on his hand if she wanted to. 

He was occupied with his daughter when Bucky exited the bedroom which probably was the only reason why his heart didn’t jump out of his chest. 

Bucky wore one of the nicer outfits the shopping assistant had chosen for him. And even though Steve was still angry about the way she had looked at Bucky, she had been totally right about the clothes. 

The plain white shirt stretched over his shoulders and around his biceps - metal and flesh one. It filled Steve’s head with images of how Bucky looked without it. 

He had exchanged the sweats for black jeans, low on his hips and tight around his thighs and Steve wondered briefly what would happen if Bucky stretched his arms over his head. Would the shirt ride up far enough to reveal skin? Or was he an idiot? 

Yes he was, so much was obvious even to him. 

Bucky looked nervous and when Steve’s eyes landed on the metal arm, he made quick process throwing on his leather jacket.    
Sarah who had noticed that Bucky had returned, squealed in excitement and demanded to be let down. On wobbly feet she made her way over to him and clawed her hands in the fabric of his jeans. 

With a grin Bucky crouched down to take her hand and walk the few meters towards the elevator with her. 

It would take ages, both of them were aware of that, but the picture was just too precious for Steve to even pretend to care. 

“It looks good,” Steve commented before he could hold himself back. To spare himself further embarrassment, he headed towards the door, grabbed jacket and stroller and led the way. 

It took Sarah about a block to get tired of walking. But she decided that she didn’t want to sit in her stroller, so Bucky carried her all the way to the store. He shifted her onto his shoulders, holding her knees with one hand, so she wouldn’t fall, pushing the stroller with the other one and followed Steve, who pushed the shopping cart and filled it with their essentials. 

The way Bucky shadowed him, light footed and only occasionally murmuring to Sarah, reminded Steve of a very loyal dog that stayed at his side at all times. 

But that was kind of the point, wasn’t it? Steve wanted Bucky to be loud, take up space and demand things. He wanted him to ask for whatever made him happy and not accept everything with this stoic expression on his face. 

“Buck, you want that?” he had asked repeatedly, whenever his friend looked at something a little longer than necessary. The grunt he got in response, didn’t help him very much.

After touring the store for half an hour, Steve’s patience ran thin. 

“Okay, Buck. I want you to do something for me.” He turned around from where he had compared bell peppers. 

Bucky looked surprised but nodded. 

“I want you to go back a few isles and start over. Take the cart and put everything inside that you want.”

His friend looked as if he wanted to argue, so Steve quickly continued. “And I mean everything. I don’t care if it’s because you want to know what it is or tastes like, or because you think it looks funny. Just put it in the cart, okay?” 

After eyeing him appraisingly, he took over the cart and retraced their steps. 

With a sigh Steve focused on his veggies again. 

When they didn’t return after twenty minutes, he got a bit worried though. 

Steve wasn’t sure what he expected when he went back through the store. Maybe he would find Bucky, Sarah still on his shoulders, attentively reading a label. Or it could be, that he kneeled next to his daughter, having one of their discussions that was nothing but Sarah babbling and Bucky nodding along.

What he didn’t expect to find was Bucky, holding Sarah like a shield in front of him, a brunette woman up and close in his space. 

Steve was no expert in twenty century mannerisms. Plus his experience with women was more than just limited. But even he could see, that the woman was aggressively flirting with Bucky. 

Before he registered what his body was doing, Steve pressed his large frame between Bucky and the woman, effectively showing her aside. He wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist, crowding himself against Bucky’s left side, so she wouldn’t accidentally touch the metal arm. With a friendly smile he kissed Sarah’s head - his awesome daughter giggled and screamed ‘daddy!’ loud enough for the entire store to hear - before he leaned in and placed a kiss on Bucky’s cheek. 

With a frown the woman took a step back. “It was lovely to chat with you,” she said and a forced smile took over. “Have a nice day.” Then she turned around and headed towards the isle with the cleaning supplies. 

“I swear I can’t take you anywhere,” Steve muttered with a grin in Bucky’s direction and unwrapped his arm.

Bucky stood frozen in the cereal aisle, eyes wide in shock and Sarah pressed close to his chest. 

And suddenly Steve panicked. 

“Oh God, Buck, I’m so sorry.” He stepped back so quickly, that he nearly tripped over his own feet. “I didn’t mean to - I mean -” 

What was he supposed to say? That he got jealous that woman had been so close to him when he struggled every day  _ not _ to do it? That he wanted to fight her off so Bucky wouldn’t realise that she had been kinda beautiful? 

Because if Steve was honest with himself, that was exactly what happened. 

And it probably scared him more than it scared Bucky. 

“It’s just - You seemed so uncomfortable with her, that I thought -” He stopped himself again. Yes, his friend had seemed uncomfortable, but that didn’t give  _ him  _ the right to step over boundaries.    
Just because they knew each other for what felt like centuries - had been best friend for as long as he could remember - he wasn’t allowed to do whatever he wanted. 

Not without Bucky’s consent. 

And that was even more important because he  _ knew _ what Hydra had done to him against his will all these years.    
He was a truly terrible friend. 

Before he could make even more of an idiot out of himself, Bucky’s hand appeared on his arm. 

It surprised him. Whenever they touched it was either by accident or because Steve initiated it. 

Bucky never touched him. 

_ Never _ . 

“Thank you,” he told him, barely audible over an announcement that sounded at the same time, and Steve was too stunned to do anything but nod. 

They finished their shopping in silence, Steve staying close now and refraining himself from glaring daggers at every man or woman that eyed Bucky with appreciation. 

On their walk home they stayed silent as well, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sarah had fallen asleep in her stroller after walking around much more than usual and exhausting herself. 

Balancing the groceries, Steve managed to get the keys into the lock and the door open. 

The door to their home, he couldn’t help but think. 

Bucky had chosen a few things for himself at the store after all. He now had his own clothes here as well.

And it looked as if he would stay for a while.

Steve grinned. 

With practiced movements, working around each other as if they hadn’t done anything else for the past seventy years, they started to unpack. Without a word Steve took Sarah to her room and put her in her bed for a nap while Bucky started to put the groceries away. He was joined by Steve after just a minute. 

There were in the kitchen, Bucky putting the last few things away and Steve wondering what he should make for dinner and if Bucky wanted to help, when the apartment door opened and Natasha walked in, a wide grin on her lips.


	12. Caught in the Spider's Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha drops by - with all sorts of unexpected consequences for Steve.

Steve had entirely forgotten, that the Avengers didn’t know how to knock. 

He had gotten used to it after Sarah because they all just dropped in whenever they wanted to visit her. But somehow - maybe he hit his head too hard in D.C. - it slipped his mind that they did that. 

Or rather - they didn’t.

It was a stupid move, especially for Captain America, ex-war hero, secret agent, spy or whatever he qualified as today. 

Steve should have known better than to think Bucky would be save here, even more so with him not clearing things with the fellow Avengers. 

And now Natasha was here, the most dangerous spy Shield had on its payroll, standing in his apartment with a smirk, watching Steve and Bucky. 

Steve knew he was too slow, but fear had him paralyzed and it took him a moment to break free from the panic and move. 

While he jumped in front of Bucky, ready to fight Nat for the safety of his other friend, Bucky pulled a knife from his boot Steve hadn’t known was there. He took a few steps back, positioning himself so Natasha wouldn’t be able to get to Sarah. He seemed to purposely leave his left hand empty and Steve guessed that it was to use it as a shield, if Nat were to draw a gun.

Steve watched it from the corner of his eye, fascinated that Bucky’s first instinct was to protect his daughter. Of course he wouldn’t know that Natasha would never do anything to hurt Sarah. 

Steve forced himself to focus back on Natasha. 

She was dressed casually - jeans, sweater and a hooded jacket - but Steve knew that wouldn’t hold her back. Neither would not having any weapons, which seemed to be the case. 

But who knew what tech they had come up with without telling him. Again.

Steve tried to listen if someone else was here, if they were surrounded. Shield didn’t exist anymore and Natasha had said that she would take time off to figure out new aliases, but maybe she mobilized the Avengers? She sure enough had other resources and favours to call in if she needed someone to help her arrest Bucky. 

But there was no sign of other agents. Steve couldn’t hear them communicate, not even breath. And neither were there the sounds of the Iron Man Suit or Thor’s heavy footfalls. 

She seemed to be alone. 

It confused Steve. 

Sure, Natasha was more than good, but two against one? Theses odds were unlikely, even for her. 

But that meant, Steve could try to talk to her. 

“I’m not going to let you take him in.”

Natasha stared at him, her perfect poker face in place not giving away a single thought. Without changing her expression, she changed her gaze towards Bucky. 

The air between them was tense, no one dared to move a muscle, as if a tiny shift in the air would cause the fight to break out. 

And Steve was afraid. He could admit as much. 

Bucky and he himself were physically okay after two weeks of healing thanks to their respective versions of the super soldier serum, but Nat could still harm them.

If she was here officially to take Bucky away and Steve stood in the way, then they could charge him with obstruction. They could arrest him and then Sarah would be alone. 

The thought sped up his heartbeat. 

He could never leave Sarah alone. She was his whole world.

And then suddenly Natasha giggled -  _ giggled _ \- and the tension was sucked out of the room. 

“Relax, Steve. I’m not here to arrest your boy toy,” she said with a grin and came over to hug him. 

He was too surprised to reciprocate and just stared at her, mouth agape. Hell, he couldn’t even counter the silly name she had called Bucky. 

“But then why -” 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “To spoil your squishy little child of course! I haven’t seen her since we said goodbye in D.C.” 

Steve squinted his eyes. It was true that Natasha was the one who came over to see Saah the most. Apart from when she went on missions, of course. “Then why did you stay away so long?” 

Nat snorted and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I’ve been busy.” She shrugged and Steve knew not to ask for ore. “And to give Yasha over there time to settle into the domestic life with you and a toddler.” She rolled her eye at them as if this was painstakingly obvious. 

“You knew?” Steve was surprised to say the least. 

“Hello, have you met me?” She rolled her eyes and Steve had to admit that she made a fair point. She was, after all, the best spy he had ever met. 

“And it was me who handed you that Hydra file. Besides, you guys weren’t very subtle,” she added with a smirk. “Count yourself lucky that Shield and Hydra are down and the other agencies too busy with cleanup.”   
“You’re not helping them then?”

“With cleanup? If I’m needed, sure” Nat shrugged as if it was nothing. “But I won’t go out, wasting my time to catch a hundred year old POW.” She grinned at Bucky, who was still wound tight. 

Bucky had lowered the knife but it was still in his firm grip. He was ready to attack or defend at any time. When Natasha strolled over to him - presumably to go to Sarah - he even growled. 

“So you don’t think he’s guilty?” Steve asked and nodded towards Bucky to signal him to let Natasha through. Even if he wasn’t sure if she told them the truth about her intentions towards Bucky, Steve knew Sarah was safe. 

Still, it warmed his heart how protective his friend had become in just a few weeks. Bucky strolled after her, not leaving Natasha out of his sight.

She returned a few minutes later, Sarah on her arm who seemed to just have woken up. 

With a quick glance to the clock Steve noticed that Natasha had timed her entrance perfectly with the usual end of Sarah’s naptime. 

Steve repeated his question. 

“He was brainwashed.” Natasha shrugged and went over to settle down at the play area with Sarah, handing her a slightly chewed on Iron Man toy. 

Bucky followed her like a shadow, keeping close enough to jump in and protect Sarah if anything happened. The scowl was still very present on his face. 

“For many people that doesn’t make a difference.” Steve watched closely so he wouldn't miss her reaction. He was surprised to detect something on her face at all, her usual closed off expression gone. 

Instead, Natasha frowned. “Loki used his scepter to brainwash Clint. He killed people and nobody wanted to execute him.” There was a faint hint of guilt in her voice.

She was right, though. 

Those deaths - nobody blamed Clint for them. No one blamed Erik Selvig for building the portal that opened up the Manhattan sky and brought destruction to the city.

It was a comparison Steve hadn’t thought of yet - and as soon as Natasha planted the idea in his head, his brain mapped out possible scenarios. 

Maybe they could use this to clear Bucky’s name! 

Steve was so caught up in his euphoria, that he nearly missed Nat’s next words. 

“And after all I did - After everything  _ they _ made me do, don’t you think I would understand how he feels?” Her voice had turned to a harder edge. Steve knew it from when she defended herself against journalists. It hid the emotion she felt underneath, he was sure. 

“They never erased my memory - they didn’t have to because I knew nothing else until Clint got me out. Why should Yasha be treated any different?” With a little smile she turned around to face Bucky. “So no, I’m not going to turn him in. No one turned me in either.”

Steve watched as Bucky stared right back at her, face dark and threatening. 

“ _ Ya tebe ne doveryayu _ ,” Bucky told her in an icy voice. 

Natasha grinned from where she sat next to Sarah on the ground. “ _ I ya tebe tozhe ne doveryayu _ .” 

Steve could only watch them in confusion before Nat turned to him. 

“How stable is he?” she asked Steve, her expression unreadable. 

He frowned. Was this supposed to be a test? 

“Better.” Steve cast a glance towards Bucky who wouldn’t take his eyes off of Sarah. “He doesn’t remember everything yet, but he’s okay.”

“No violent episodes?”

“No,” Steve shook his head. “He has nightmares, but I guess we all do.”

Natasha nodded and turned around to face Bucky. “As long as he thinks you’re not a threat to Sarah, I don’t need to trust you to allow you around her.”

“Nat!” Steve bellowed. “How can you -” 

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted him. “It’s okay Steve.”

“No, it’s not okay, Buck.” He told him. “She shouldn’t say things like this.”

He shrugged. “She’s right. If I were a threat to Sarah, I shouldn’t be around her.”   
Steve was speechless. How could anyone think Bucky would be a threat to his daughter? 

Before he could gather his words, Nat spoke up again. 

“I’m sorry Steve, but I worry about the two of you. I don’t want you guys to get hurt and I know just how effective their brainwashing can be.” For a second a dark shadow crossed her face. “But from what I gathered, he seemed to be okay enough and you should have been healed enough to protect yourself and Sarah. So I made sure everyone stayed away.”

“You did what?” 

Nat grinned. “I made sure the others stayed away. Clint and Bruce know why. Tony doesn’t because he would drop in to annoy Yasha. Oh,” she added with a grin. “And Ross is somewhere in Siberia looking for him.”    
“Siberia?” Steve couldn’t help but grin. He met the General a few times and wasn’t particularly fond of him. 

She nodded. “Siberia. I convinced him that the Winter Soldier would go back to base without a handler’s commands and that the mission is too important for simple agents.” With a grin she turned towards Sarah and tickled her toes until the little girl laughed. “And now the secretary of defence is in Russia, freezing his toes off, waiting for Yasha to show up.” 

“Why would you do that?” Steve asked amazed. 

“Because I don’t like him. And I wanted you to have time to adjust and come up with a plan.” 

With newfound gratitude towards Nat, he made his way over to her. Kneeling down, he pulled her into a hug. 

“Thanks, Nat,” he whispered and with a shrug, she made him let her go. 

The Black Widow wasn’t one for hugs and cuddles, other than with children apparently. 

“You’re welcome, Rogers.” She returned her attention back to Sarah. “Now I’m going to spend time with my precious little niece while you prepare dinner. We can talk more later” 

With a laugh he got up. He shot Bucky a look, hoping that he would come along. 

Nat spoke before Steve had the chance. “ _ Idi i pomogi svoyemu parnyu gotovit _ ',” she told Bucky. 

It caused him to frown, but he followed Steve towards the kitchen anyway.

_ Towards _ the kitchen - not into it, because Bucky stayed in the doorway to the living room, keeping an eye on Natasha and Sarah. He could barely stand still and, after a few minutes, took out his knife again to play around. 

“Come one Buck, relax,” Steve told him as he rummaged through their fridge. “Nat’s okay. She’s great with Sarah and won’t hurt her.” 

Bucky sighed and eventually left his lookout to join Steve at the kitchen counter. He mumbled a short “okay” and put the knife to use to cut the vegetables. 

They worked in silence for a while, the occasional laughter wafting to them from the living room. 

“So you trust Natasha?” Bucky asked, looking up from the chopping board. “I mean you leave Sarah alone with her.”

Steve directed a pointing glare at him. “I would never leave Sarah with people I don’t trust a hundred percent.” 

Bucky averted his gaze, a frown furrowing his brows. After another few minutes, where just their hustling around the kitchen could be heard, Bucky spoke again. “So I guess she’s the reason Sarah understands a bit Russian?” 

Steve sighed and put the casserole dishes in the oven. “Yeah, she’s teaching her whenever she’s around.” With a frown he turned around and watched Bucky wiping down the countertops. “ Says it’s valuable to grow up bilingual.”

Bucky seemed to be deep in thought but nodded. “I guess she’s right.”

Steve just shrugged and sat down at the table. Their dinner would take a while. “I mean, I looked through a few websites and most of them agree that speaking two languages from infancy makes it easier to learn more later.” He sighed and buried his face in his hands. “But then again she also wants to teach her how to suffocate a man with a thigh hold.” 

When he looked up Bucky didn’t show the reaction he hoped he would. Instead he seemed enthusiastic. 

“That’s a great idea!” he told him and something that resembled a pleased smile, spread on his lips. “Maybe I could teach her to defend herself with small knives. They’re easy and can be very effective. And she could hide them in her clothes when she goes out with-”

“What is wrong with you guys?” Steve interrupted him nearly sobbing. “Sarah is barely more than a year old and you’re talking about turning her into a killing machine!”

Bucky huffed. “We don’t want to turn her into a killing machine Steve. It’s about self defence.”

“Choking and stabbing people is  _ not  _ about self defence!”

“What else would you call it?” 

“Turning her into a mini spy?” 

Bucky sighed. “Stevie, it’s a dangerous world and if Sarah has the resources to learn how to defend herself I think she should do that.”

Momentarily distracted by the fact that Bucky had called him ‘Stevie’, he didn’t know what to answer. It  _ was _ a dangerous world, especially for young girls, but teaching her all these things felt too much like forcing her on a career path like his own. 

“Bucky, normal people consider carrying pepper spray self defence and not knives. They teach their daughters to be careful and maybe how to punch someone, but not how to kill them with their bare hands,” he tried to reason eventually. 

Bucky, however, wasn’t convinced. “But if we can do more than that? Why not teach her all we know?”

Steve wanted to cry. Why could no one understand that he wanted Sarah to be normal? “I want her to be  _ normal _ , Bucky. Yes, I want us to teach her stuff, but I thought about how to throw a baseball or something.”

Bucky seemed to consider it for a moment. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea and less suspicious. If you want I can practice aiming for vulnerable points with her. I guess if you hit the throat hard enough -” 

Steve groaned and interrupted his friend. “This is so not what I meant.” Giving up, he buried his face in his hands, refusing to talk about this any longer. 

* * *

Dinner wasn’t helpful to lift his mood either. 

Upon learning that Natasha wanted to form Sarah into a mini version of the Black Widow - “Stop being so dramatic, Rogers. We just want to keep her safe.” - Bucky immediately warmed up to her. This apparently included speaking mostly Russian at the dinner table. 

Which Steve didn’t understand. 

He hated it. 

Steve tried to find peace in the knowledge that they weren’t longer glaring at each other, but after minutes of them animatedly discussing what he feared was Sarah’s training he had enough. He picked up his daughter and carried her to the bathroom to get her ready for her bath. 

It had been a while since he took this much time to get his daughter ready for bed, but Steve enjoyed it. With Bucky around, they did most of these things together. And even though he loved having his best friend close all the time, it was good to spend some time with her alone. 

He let Sarah do most of the ‘talking’ and answered in this exaggerated interested tone she seemed to love so much. They spent nearly an hour playing in the tub until Sarah’s toes were wrinkly and Steve’s shirt drenched in soapy water. 

After he dried her and carried her to her room, Steve made her laugh with drawing smiley faces on her feet with lotion. She giggled with until her face was as red as a tomato when he blew raspberries on her tummy. 

When he read her the bedtime story, she was so exhausted from her bath and Steve’s attempts to make her laugh, that she fell asleep a few minutes into the book. 

He finished it anyway. 

There was nothing left to do, but Steve remained a her bedside. He watched her sleep - lips forming a little ‘o’, cheeks rosy and her Bucky Bear clutched against her - and felt a flutter in his chest. 

A year ago he had been overwhelmed with the task of being a new dad. He had spent most of his time worrying that he did something wrong and no visit at the doctor, who assured him that Sarah was a very healthy and happy baby, could calm him down. 

Now he sometimes missed these hectic first months. 

Steve missed being woken up most nights by her cries because she was disoriented and alone. He missed holding her against his chest when all of Brooklyn seemed to be asleep and quiet. It had been so long since he swayed her to sleep in his arms and sometimes he wanted to do it just because he felt like it.

With a sigh and a wistful glance he closed Sarah’s door behind him to let her sleep. 

Time to face the Russian assassins in the kitchen, he thought.

They had cleaned aways the remnants of their dinner while Steve had gotten Sarah ready for bed. 

“Sarah asleep?” Bucky asked as soon as Steve entered. He looked somewhat disappointed and Steve immediately felt guilty.

He nodded. “Yeah, sorry that we didn’t come to say good night.” 

Steve sat down at the table again and for a few minutes they all just followed their own thought. 

After a while Nat stood. “I guess I better go now.” With quick movements she was reads to leave and at the door. 

“Oh, Steve?” she called him, hand already on the handle. “Thursday, seven pm. at Cole’s. I text you the details,” were her last words before she disappeared into the night, leaving Steve and Bucky confused. 

* * *

Thursday turned out to be a date she set up for Steve. He didn’t want to go but she refused to call Emily, the woman she wanted him to meet, to cancel. 

So he went, just to not make Emily feel horrible. 

It was nice, but the entire time he wished he could be at home. 

While they had their salad, he thought about how Bucky would get Sarah ready for bed right now - bath her, read her a story (probably in Russian since Steve wasn’t around) and then kiss her good night on the crown of her head. 

During Emily’s monologue about her awful boss, he wondered what Bucky did for his evening entertainment. Maybe he continued the movie they fell asleep watching the other day.

Steve was glad when it was over and he could walk Emily to her car. They said they goodbys without exchanging their numbers and Steve went home. 

Bucky looked up from a book when he heard the key turn in the lock.

“So how was it,” he asked. His poker face was in place and Steve wasn’t sure if his friend was making friendly conversation or if he was genuinely interested. So he answered as noncommittal as possible. 

“Good. She was nice. Easy to talk to.”

Bucky nodded and closed his book. He stood and stretched. “Did you tell her about Sarah?”

Steve furrowed his brows. “Of course not. I only tell people I trust.”

“Hm.” Bucky stared at the floor for a second before he gave Steve a little smile. “Well, good night, Stevie.”

It was Bucky’s turn to take the bed and Steve would stay on the couch. They still hadn’t figured out a different system or bought a second bed. 

But that was okay. Steve didn’t mind the couch. So he smiled at Bucky as well before his friend disappeared into the bedroom. 

“Night, Buck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it what you guys expected? :D I hope not because I want to be at least a little bit suprising. :) 
> 
> And why does Nat have meddle with Steve's love life again? Any ideas? :) 
> 
> The Russian (which I don't speak so please excuse any mistakes, they're Google's fault) translates to:   
Bucky - "I don't trust you"  
Nat - "And I don't trust you either." 
> 
> Nat - "Go and help your boyfriend in the kitchen."


	13. Little Temptations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all (or at least the best part).

Steve hated dating. Seventy years in the ice hadn’t changed the fact that he despised being set up by a friend - back then Bucky; now Natasha - and had to go out and be nice to someone. 

Now it only felt worse because he knew that at home Sarah and Bucky were waiting for him. 

Why would he want to go out with some random stranger when he could just as well spend the evening with his best friend and daughter, the people he cherished most? 

But Natasha wouldn’t let it slide. With Bucky around he had a full time babysitter and no excuse to stay at home. 

And his best friend hadn’t been particularly helpful either. 

Instead of having his back, Bucky had personally assured Natasha that he had no problem watching Sarah alone for a few hours while Steve enjoyed his dates. 

In his defence: Natasha had cornered him and he had looked utterly confused. But it didn’t quite excuse Bucky _ not _ understanding Steve frantically shaking his head behind Natasha’s back. 

And neither did it change that Steve hated dating. 

True to his thought he hadn’t met up with Emily for a second date. To be honest, Steve forgot about her altogether until Natasha dropped by a few days later.

Apparently Nat had asked Emily about their date, because she considered it useless to ask Steve. She had told her that, while Steve was a nice guy and ‘obviously hot’, they just didn’t seem to fit together. 

Even though Steve agreed with her on the whole not-fitting-together thing, it still left a bitter taste in his mouth; seventy years and one enhancing super soldier serum later and he was still not second date material. 

At first he tried to look at the bright side: no more dates with Emily meant more time he could spend at home, at the playground or at their new favourite diner (it was very old school and they liked the simplicity) with his two favourite people. 

His optimism was quickly challenged by Natasha. Because a week after Emily, there was Jacinda. 

And the week after _ that _, Steve had to meet Lucy for coffee. 

And so on.

Two months into Natasha’s dating scheme and Steve wanted to hide every time he saw her name on his phone. 

But not answering her calls had proven to be useless - she just dropped by to tell him. And she still refused to give him the girls contact details so he couldn’t cancel their dates beforehand. 

While Steve suffered more or less in silence during those two months, Bucky appeared to grow more and more comfortable in his own skin and their shared apartment. 

They still hadn’t found a better solution for the sleeping dilemma, so they continued to alternate between taking the couch and the bed. Steve had tried to act as if he had fallen asleep on the couch a few times after he had noticed that Bucky’s nightmares seemed to be better the nights he spent in the bedroom. But of course Bucky wouldn’t make it that easy. When Steve ‘fell asleep’ on the couch, Bucky simply took the armchair. 

Otherwise Bucky did well. 

He talked more, even to Steve, went out with them to get groceries or to the park and playground and he voiced his opinion. Bucky told Steve if he was uncomfortable with or wanted something. 

It was as if they were roommates that got along great and also had a child to take care of together. 

Bucky also seemed to come to terms with his arm and his scars more and more each day. 

It started with Sarah, like most things did when it came to Bucky. 

The little one was fascinated by the shiny metal and how robust it seemed. At first his fingers were just a convenient chewing toy for when her teeth hurt. Then she discovered that the metal was also a convenient place for sharpie sketches because it could be cleaned off quickly. 

Sarah also liked playing with Bucky's hair. More than once Steve had to detangle sticky little fingers from his brown locks. He tried to hand her toys to distract her, but once she set her mind to comb through Bucky’s hair, she would throw a tantrum until they let her. 

She also thought it was hilarious watching Steve _ braid _ Bucky’s hair. 

Bucky didn’t seem to mind, but Steve - 

At the beginning, Bucky had mostly worn henleys and hoodies - anything that covered his metal arm - but at least at home he started to switch to short sleeved shirts from time to time now. It made sense; late June had hit New York with a heat wave and anything that covered more skin than necessary was quickly discarded. 

Steve loved that his friend finally seemed to get somewhat better. 

His wounds had healed, Bucky actually smiled and talked, and the nightmares appeared less frequent. The only problem Steve had was that, with Bucky feeling better, he dialed up the charm and occasionally walked around their apartment _ without _ a shirt.

Which made it harder and harder for Steve to keep his thoughts were they belonged. 

It happened the day after a particularly bad nightmare. 

The sun was already touching the horizon when Steve woke up, drenched in sweat and screaming. He tried to remember what the dream had been about, but it was already fading into his subconsciousness. There were just imaged of Bucky and Sarah, covered in blood and their screams echoed in his ears. 

Chest heaving with rapid breathing, he managed to roll himself down from the bed into a seated position on the floor. Steve knew he was supposed to bring his knees up to his chest, try to focus and breath slowly to calm down, but the images he couldn’t see any longer, haunted him. 

He wanted to cry and scream and trash something until he was too exhausted to be afraid anymore. He knew he should look after Sarah, look if his screaming had woken her, and - 

A warm had on his shoulder pulled him out of his own head. 

“Here,” Bucky murmured and handed him a glass of water. 

With only a nod Steve took it and gulped its contents down. “Thanks.” 

Bucky smiled - this little smile where just the right corner of his mouth lifted - and nodded before he sat down next to Steve. “You want to talk about it?”

“Can’t remember it,” Steve told him as soon as his breath was back to normal. 

Even though his breathing had calmed down, his mind was still in uproar. So it took him a few minutes before he realised that the warmth next to him was more pronounced than usual because Bucky wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

And he was just so close. 

The late June heat made it necessary to open the windows at night, and the early morning breeze moved the air inside Steve’s bedroom. It was as if with one tiny little gush of air, his senses were flooded with Bucky. 

The skin of his arm was so soft and warm, yet hard and unyielding against his own; Bucky’s breathing rang in his ear, lulling him into a soft and easy rhythm himself; his scent was fogging his mind, chasing away the last remains of his nightmares. 

Steve wanted to reach out to him, rest his head on his best friends shoulder, feel his arms around him and know that he was kept safe by the one person he trusted. His fingers itched to entwine themselves either in Bucky’s hair or with his fingers. 

But he didn’t. He never did. 

They just sat next to each other in silence, breathing together, waiting for the sun to rise to the point where it was acceptable for Steve to leave for his morning run, for Bucky to make breakfast and for both of them never to speak of the tension between them again. 

It was just easier that way. 

And on his morning run he went; Steve’s legs pumped, his blood rushed through his enhanced body and he pushed himself to the limit of exhaustion where he hoped that the inappropriate thoughts would simply go away. 

The few people that walked the early morning Brooklyn streets looked at him as if he was crazy. 

And who knows, maybe he was.

It had been the adrenaline, he told himself. He was too hyped up from the nightmare this morning. Otherwise he would have never thought of Bucky in _ that _ way. 

_ And all the other times it happened before? _, a small voice in the back of his head asked. It was the same voice that - in his weaker moments - told Steve that Bucky wouldn’t mind if he wrapped his arms around him. The voice that tried to convince him that the accidental touches when they played with Sarah or worked around each other in the kitchen were not so accidental after all. 

The little voice inside his head - the devil on his shoulder. 

He stretched his round longer than usual, took an extra lap around the park so he wouldn’t have to go back to the apartment so soon already. But he knew that Bucky would have Sarah and their breakfast ready by now and Steve couldn't bring himself to keep either of them waiting.

He took the stairs up - it was more likely to keep his exhaustion up than the lift - and when he entered it was as if he hadn’t just quite literally run away from his problems. Instead Bucky stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his broad back facing Steve, Sarah in his arms and her head resting against his shoulder. 

Steve was a terrible father because the first thing he noticed wasn’t that his daughter was crying, but that Bucky still hadn’t put on a shirt, keeping his muscles out there for the world to see.

“What happened?” he managed to stammer out the moment his brain caught up with the rest of his body, Steve’s feet already carrying him towards Sarah. He didn’t take her from Bucky - he knew his daughter was as saved and loved in his best friend’s arms as she would be in his own - but brushed away a tear with his thumb. 

Bucky turned around, his brows furrowed with worry. “I think she’s teething. Started crying right after you went out.” 

Steve nodded and went to fetch a frozen slice of cucumber from the freezer. He tried to hand it to Sarah but she only cried louder and buried her face in Bucky’s shoulder. 

With a frown he let his arm sink to his side. 

Bucky looked awfully concerned. “I already tried the cucumber, her chewing toys and the amber thingy. Hell, I even tried my arm.” 

Steve took a step towards them. “Sarah, princess, can you look at me?” he asked in an attempt to get her head out of the crook of Bucky’s neck. 

Sarah vehemently shook her head, her blond curls flying. 

“Doll, please, look at your daddy. You don’t have to eat the cucumber. Promise,” Bucky tried again. When she still wouldn’t relent, Bucky sighed. 

“Want me to put her down so you can reach her forehead? I can’t really feel it with my shoulder.” 

“Let me get the first aid kit, just in case we need it,” he told him and took a moment to watch as Bucky made his way to the couch. 

Sarah’s screams got louder when Steve came back and he nodded for Bucky to take her away from his shoulder. She sometimes had those fits where she needed to be in constant contact with one of them and if she didn’t get her will, the entire house would hear it. 

The result of Steve’s quick check was that Sarah had a light fever, neither of them could really feel with their bare hands because they ran hotter than normal humans. 

They spent most of the morning on the couch, Sarah refusing to leave Bucky’s arms and Steve rummaging around them, serving coffee, tea and breakfast in the living room. 

It took a while for Sarah to calm down and fall into an uneasy slumber and when her breathing finally evened out, both Steve and Bucky let out a heavy, relieved sigh.

For a short moment they continued to watch her, before Bucky carefully stood from the couch. “I’m going to put her back to bed,” he informed Steve before he turned around to head for Sarah’s room. Bucky halted in the doorway. “Stevie?” 

Steve looked up at the unusual usage of his nickname. “Yes, Buck?”

“You, uh -” He suddenly sounded unsure of what to say. But with a short laugh and grin he was back to being his charming self of the last few weeks. “Maybe you should go take a shower.”

At that comment Steve could feel the tips of his ears heating up. Before he could mumble a response, Bucky winked. 

He _ winked. _ “It’s not that I don’t like ya, all sweaty and that, but you stink.” He turned back around and went to Sarah’s room leaving a very irritated Steve behind. 

Stunned and confused Steve followed the order and made his way to the bathroom. He stripped mechanically and only when the warm water hit him from above, the questions hit him. 

What had Bucky meant by that? Was it meant to sound so … _ flirtatious _? Or was this just Steve’s overactive imagination and the prompt Bucky had given it in combination with Bucky being half naked. 

One naked, the other sweaty - 

The images were too powerful to be kept down, no matter how much Steve wanted to. 

But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? he didn’t really want to _ not _ think about it. 

In front of his eyes a picture took form - it was a memory from Bucky at the beach decades ago. But not as the young boy he had been back then, but as the man he was now with the boy’s smile and carefree eyes, and the water’s droplets running down along the defined muscles of his chest. 

Steve wanted to curse when the need below his waist exceeded his mental strength. He bit his lip, so no sound would escape them as his hand made its way over his abdomen towards his aching cock. 

With an inward curse and the last bits of his resolve crumbling, Steve wrapped his fingers around the hardening shaft and squeezed. 

It had been so long since he took his time with this - it felt wrong when no one else was there to look after Sarah and since Bucky moved in it was just weird - and it felt so good. And his mind supplied him with the glorious image of Bucky’s perfectly formed body, that was strong enough to withstand everything Steve could do to him, covered in only water and sunlight. 

Steam rising around him, Steve began to stroke - slowly at first, savouring the sensation of his building release and lost in his own head. 

If Bucky was here with him, would he wink, just like he had before? Would he be carefree and enjoy it, just as much Steve would? 

His hand moved faster as he imagined the flirty Bucky he had just witnessed, joining him in the shower with that self-confident expression, pushing Steve’s hand away and replacing it with his own. Steve’s hips did an involuntary jolt forward at this mental picture. 

He could feel the heat building up in his abdomen and he thought: ‘_ To hell with it _’ and got lost in his fantasy. 

Bucky would chuckle, maybe joke about how eager Steve was, pushing into his tight fist. He would twist and pump until Steve was wound as tight as a screw, ready to break and as sweet, delicious torture he would slow down to prolong it. 

He would crowd Steve against the wall, come up and close, his own erection rubbing against Steve’s hip, hard and demanding to be touched as well. Of course Steve would reach for it, his own arousal heightened by the velvety soft feeling skin over the hard erection. 

Steve bumped against the faucet - the metal faucet - and … what if Bucky used his other hand? 

With a barely suppressed groan Steve tried to imagine the feeling of the cold metal hand wrapped around his cock, smooth and so terrifyingly strong. He accelerated the strokes of his own fist, desperate to follow the fantasy to the end. 

In his head, Bucky tightened the hold on his erection even more. It bordered on painful, but it was just so exhilarating to know that this fist that lovingly stroked him, could kill him with a well placed strike. 

But Bucky wouldn’t do that. Steve trusted him. 

No, Bucky would come even closer, kiss Steve’s shoulder, nibble his collar bone before whispering words in Steve’s ear, he couldn’t understand. His soft, plump lips would wander over his cheek to the corner of his lips and finally his mouth, where Steve wanted them - 

Gasping for air, Steve pushed himself over the edge. Stroking himself through his orgasm he kept his eyes shut close, trying to keep the fantasy alive as long as possible - keep the pleasure up as long as possible. 

He wanted to kiss Bucky, taste him, please him in every way possible. 

The warm water still rained down on his back, when he regained his senses. 

With a sigh, Steve placed his hand under the water, washing away the evidence. 

* * *

Tony’s party for the 4th of July was always very extravagant according to what people had told him the first year Steve attended. He had been out of the ice a few months and just fought against an alien invasion - it left him no strength to fight off Tony Stark himself when he wanted to throw a party for his friends. 

So he went and suffered through an evening full of useful 21st century education from the other guests. 

Last year, he managed to get out of the party thanks to Sarah, who hadn’t been three months old back then. 

Now, with Sarah being a toddler and Tony promising that he wouldn’t invite too many people and mostly just keep it to Avengers and friends, Steve had no choice but to go. 

It was his birthday party after all. 

When he arrived with Sarah on his arm and Bucky next to him, everyone but Natasha and Clint stopped dead in their tracks. 

Nat strolled over while Clint made a run for the kitchen. She immediately took Sarah from Steve and started to talk to her in fast Russian. “Oh, and happy birthday,” she said and placed a quick peck on his cheek. 

Clint came running back, a horribly wrapped present in his arms before he launched himself at Steve. “I found that while we were shopping for the baby. Sarah will look amazing in it.” He patted him on the back before he turned to face Bucky. “How are you, man? Let me introduce you.” 

Bucky was ushered away towards Laura and the kids who were the only ones that weren’t still frozen in shock. The first one to recover was Sam.

“Happy birthday,” he told him after a quick hug before he glanced over where Bucky was just showing off his metal arm to Clint’s fascinated kids. “So, you found him then?” 

Steve nodded. “He found me, to be honest.”

“And he’s okay.”

Steve smiled at his new friend’s worry. “Yeah, he’s got his demons, but I guess we all do. He great with Sarah,” he added to make sure Sam understood just how good everything was with Bucky around. He liked him and he didn’t want him to be suspicious of Bucky. 

With a toothy grin, Sam patted his back again. “Guess nobody thought you meant that by bringing your babysitter along.” 

“My what?” Steve stuttered. 

“Babysitter,” Sam repeated even though Steve had heard him perfectly. 

Steve frowned. “But why did you guys think -”

“Oh, so that was the Widow then, huh?” With another bright smile Sam wandered off to join where the kids were gathered around Bucky to start up a conversation with him. 

For a moment, Steve kept his eyes on them to make sure that Bucky was alright, but then they shook hands and Bucky even smiled, so he went over to where the rest of his friends were. 

Bruce was the first one to speak. “Steve, that’s the guy that attacked you in D.C. What is he doing here?”

From the periphery of his eye he could see that Bucky’s shoulders tensed up. Steve couldn’t go over there to comfort him so he just spoke louder than he had to - to make sure Bucky would hear him. “Yes, he attacked me, but it wasn’t his fault and I am fine.” He glared at all of them, daring them to disagree. “He is also my best friend and if you have a problem with that we’re going to leave.”

They all looked surprised before Pepper eventually stepped forward to envelope Steve into a soft hug. She congratulated him and said: “I’m so happy that you have your best friend back.”

With that, the spell was broken and one after another they came to gratulate him, hand him presents and - after Natasha spilled the beans - ask about his dating life. 

Eventually they made their peace with Bucky’s presence, were friendly and talked to him, even tried to include him in their conversation and friendly teasing. 

Bucky seemed to relax around them and even smiled from time to time. 

With everything going so well, Steve was working up the courage to ask Pepper for legal help, getting rid of Bucky’s status as a criminal. But before he could walk up to her, Sarah started to cry in Tony’s arms. 

In an instant, Bucky was next to him and had her in his arms. He gently swayed her and made his way over to the door. In the floor the noise from their little get-together was too much for their little one, and Bucky knew how to handle it. 

Steve wanted to follow him, but Clint held him back. “Maybe we should have waited for a Winter Soldier version of your present,” he joked before he went to get more cake for his wife and kids. 

Steve directed a non-committal smile towards his friends before he strolled after Bucky and his daughter. He could hear Bucky singing in his deep and soothing voice and Sarah’s cries died down before Steve even reached them. 

He leaned against the wall watching them, a wistful smile spreading on his lips. “You are simply the best with her,” Steve told him in all honesty, still astonished at how easily Bucky was able to calm Sarah down every time she was upset, at how naturally Bucky took over the role as her parent, and at how much he seemed to love her. 

“And I meant what I said earlier,” he added before Bucky could say something the lessen the compliment. “You are still my best friend and if either of them makes you uncomfortable, we can leave.”

It didn’t quite sound as nonchalant as he wanted it to do. 

“That’s nice of you to say. But it’s your birthday, so we’ll stay.” Bucky stepped closer until the scent of his aftershave and the colour of his eyes were all Steve could register. 

“Happy birthday, Stevie,” he whispered and leaned in close. 

Rigid and afraid that if he moved, this dream would dissolve in front of him, Steve waited what would happen. 

Bucky’s face came closer - closer than it had to be for a friendly hug - but instead Bucky’s soft lips met Steve’s cheek. It was a little bit too close to Steve’s mouth to have been accidental.

But Bucky just smiled, this soft smile that was reserved for Steve, where he lifted the right corner of his mouth, before he turned around with Sarah in his arms to join the party again. 

And it dawned to Steve, standing in the corridor while he watched his best friend walk away with their daughter, that he loved him. 

That he always had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how'd you like it? :D Excited for what comes next? 
> 
> I hope so because I might need a break next week.  
I am really sorry, but with the move to London and the university term coming to an end I ran out of Chapters. 13 was the last I had more or less written aside from the story's end.  
I will write as much as I can and try to make Friday next week, but I am not sure if I can make it. We have to hand in a paper next week and we still don't have the assignment. 
> 
> But the story will definitely be finished before Christmas because I have a something planned for you guys :)


	14. Changes and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, here we go. The things that happened after the 'kiss'.   
I hope you like feelings.

They didn’t speak of the nearly kiss again. 

In fact, both Steve and Bucky acted as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. 

But then again Steve had already done that after the shower incident. 

After Steve’s birthday get-together - Tony refused to call it a party when nobody wanted to get drunk with him - they stayed over at the tower. So even though Steve technically would have slept on the couch the night after his birthday, he got to enjoy a bed. 

Not that he slept much, but he liked to think it was a birthday benefit. 

No, he spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, thinking about Bucky. 

Even if it had taken some time everyone had eventually accepted that Bucky would be a permanent fixture in Sarah’s and Steve’s lives and therefore, by proxy, theirs as well. And while Tony grumbled about it, he caved when Bucky allowed him to take a look at his arm. 

That even managed to distract Tony from the fact that no one wanted to share his Whiskey with him. He spent the rest of the night talking about how he could improve it, make it lighter and add some features, and Steve had the suspicion that Tony went straight to his workshop when they all said goodnight. 

While it had technically been Steve’s birthday, the attention was mostly focused on Sarah. 

Clint gave him a pyjama set that was too big for Sarah yet - she wouldn’t fit in it for at least another year - but Steve got the joke. Even Bucky laughed at the bright, sparkling and very pink Captain America motive. The best part though, was the writing on the shield. It said ‘my daddy is my superhero’ and while Steve knew that Clint bought it  _ because _ he was Captain America, the thought that, one day, Sarah would think of him as someone she could rely on completely, made his eyes water. 

Lila loved having another girl around and patiently talked to Sarah for an hour. She even helped her colour a few pages in her colouring book. Though the highlight was that she got Sarah to say her name. 

Even though she consistently seemed to come up with new words (or at least her version of them) “Daddy” and “Bucky” - which finally sounded like his name - were the only names she pronounced correctly. Steve had the slight suspicion that at least on Tony’s case, it wasn’t entirely her fault. 

So yeah, that she managed to say “Lila” without a flaw after half an hour made everyone very happy. 

_ Especially _ Bucky. 

Steve knew how it felt whenever Sarah did something new; he had spent the entire last year in a constant state of awe. But for Bucky it was still new, so Steve let him cuddle and praise her as long as he wanted. 

He wouldn’t even mind if he did that forever. 

Steve had always imagined falling in love would hit him out of the blue, like lightning. He thought it would take his breath away and make his knees give in. 

But realising that he loved Bucky, not just in a platonic way, was different. 

It felt right and normal and very, very comfortable. 

It didn’t really feel like a change of pace either, because even with the realisation, Steve didn’t want to change anything between them. After all - feelings or not - but was still and would ever be his best friend first. 

So what if, if they would start kissing and holding hands in public now? Bucky was still the guy who, when Steve was beaten up by bullies, had his back. Now he was just much more frightening. He was still the one person he didn’t mind hogging his bedside when he was ill. After ninety years, he was still the person Steve thought about, when he wanted to share something. 

Nothing had changed because Steve had to realise that he did  _ not _ fall in love with Bucky over the last few months. 

He fell years ago and so gradually, that it was just the way things were. 

Not even the physical attraction he felt towards Bucky was new. Steve felt it that day at the beach when they were teenagers and it never really went away. It was always there, sometimes just in the back of his mind.

The only thing that changed was the domesticity that came with parenting Sarah. And now that Steve knew why his chest felt so heavy whenever Bucky did something cute with her, everything fell into place. 

Only the nearly-kiss made him think that maybe, he wasn’t alone in this. 

But nothing changed since neither of them brought it up again and Steve was too afraid to ask. If it was just a peck on the cheek for his birthday and he read too much into it, he could make Bucky feel uncomfortable. And every time he hoped that maybe it  _ did  _ mean that Bucky’s feelings weren’t a hundred percent platonic either, he chickened out before he could ask. 

Because he would rather have Bucky around and in a good mood than lose him. The last seven decades had been enough already. 

At this moment they were at the playground that was in a park a few blocks from their apartment. It was Steve’s turn to push Sarah on the baby swing after he had waited patiently while Bucky made her go down the tiny slide over and over again for nearly an hour until Sarah was satisfied. 

She would probably be out like a light by the time they got home. 

His job as the princess’ official swing pusher wasn’t very demanding, so he could keep an eye on his surroundings - Bucky really - and the other families that spend their Saturday afternoon here. 

Bucky was seated in their line of sight so that every upward swing, Sarah could wave at him with her little, chubby fingers. And Bucky would wave back every time. 

A mother sat down on the bench next to Bucky and for a second distracted him with something she said. Steve hadn’t even tried to listen, but Sarah wasn’t pleased with the shift in attention; she immediately started to whine. 

Steve halted the swing so he could have Sarah look at him. “You okay, princess?” 

She held her arms up and said “out” as a command for Steve to free her from the swing. As soon as her tiny feet hit the ground, she started a wobbly run towards Bucky. 

The women still demanded Bucky’s attention but that was nothing compared to an angry little Sarah, storming up to him as fast as she could - which wasn’t very fast at all but still impressive for a girl that small. She ran into his knee and clawed his fingers into the material of his jeans. “Bucky!” 

He reached out, attempting to lift her up on to his lap, but she started to shake her head. Instead she grabbed his hand and pulled. When Bucky wasn’t up fast enough she yelled “Papa!”

Steve stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. 

Bucky didn’t do much better. His knees buckled and in a second his face was on the same level as Sarah’s. “Doll, what-”

“Pa-pa!” she yelled again, pulling even harder on Bucky’s hands. 

Steve couldn’t help the moisture that suddenly dampened his eyes. With a laugh he wiped the happy tear away. “Papa, I think she wants you to push the swing now.” 

In utter disbelief Bucky directed his gaze towards Steve. “Papa?” 

Steve shrugged, still grinning. “I think she decided that you’re her dad now, too.” 

“But-” he cleared his throat and within a split second, he looked unsure. “But are you okay with this?”

Ignoring the women that seemed to be very well entertained, Steve kneeled down next to them. He kept his voice down but firm enough for Bucky to understand. His demeanour had changed so drastically that even Sarah was calm and observed the adults. 

“Buck, the past months you have been as much as a father to her as I have been. You love her and she clearly loves you.” Steve smiled and patted his back. “So if you want to be her papa, then that’s totally okay with me. 

Bucky nodded and finally rose from his knees, Sarah perched on his arm. “You want to go on the swing again, doll?” he asked with the softest voice, the love for the little girl as clear as day in his eyes. 

And while Steve only had to wipe away a single tear from his cheek, Bucky’s were wet through and through. Steve brushed them away and wrapped them in a hug - the two most important people in his life - before he followed them to the swing. 

* * *

Steve was happy. There was no other way to phrase it. 

Bucky hadn’t stopped smiling ever since Sarah had called him ‘papa’. It was as if he was floating around Steve, talking to the little girl in his arms, who seemed confused about the high amount of cuddles she received that afternoon and evening.

His eyes watered up again later that evening when they put her to bed. Steve had sat beside her to read a bedtime story and Bucky had listened from his place on the floor. 

Every other minute his hands had wandered up, smoothing wrinkles out of the covers, tucking a strand of hair behind Sarah’s ear or making sure that her teddy bear was safe and secure tucked in with her. And all the time his smile - the one that screamed just how much he loved her - never once faltered. 

When it was time to say goodnight, Steve went first. He placed a kiss on Sarah’s locks, whispered a quiet ‘I love you, princess’ before he stood and put the book back on the shelf. Bucky, he noticed, still kneeled next to the bed, watching Sarah, and Steve knew he had to leave them alone. 

“Remember to out up the crib,” he told him before he went to sit in the living room. He pulled out his sketchbook, more to appear as if he wouldn’t listen to whatever happened in the nursery than to sketch, but his pencil moved over the paper nevertheless. 

When he eventually heard Bucky speak, figures were already taking form before him. 

“Hey doll.” His voice was soft and if weren’t for his super soldier hearing, it would have been too faint. But he immediately stopped to sketch and listened.

“So, I never did this before, you know?” Steve heard him sigh. “I mean I don’t think I did. Either way, I can’t remember anything about how to take care of a little girl.” There was a clatter Steve was sure to be Bucky’s metallic hand on the wood of the crib. 

“But I love you. So much,” Bucky continued. “And I will do everything I can to make sure you’re safe and happy. I guess you just have to tell me what you want? To help me out I mean? I did a lot of messed up stuff over the years, and I’m horrible with words, so I doubt I will be of much help.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “You’re daddy’s gonna make sure you’re going to be the smartest thing and know all about justice and morality and how  _ not _ to listen to people who clearly know better than you, but you’re going to turn out so great and confident. I just know it. And I would be honoured to see that. 

“I think I would be good to scare people away? Or have a friendly chat with them if they’re not nice to you. You don’t know it yet, but a lot of people are scared by the metal arm, doll. Not you, though. Never you.” Another sighed was heard in the living room.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say, I guess, is that I will be here as long as you want me to. I will go to the library in the middle of the night to get you that next book you want or try to figure out what your homework was about. And if you want to talk about boys, I will try not to get too scared. Or girls. Not that I would be much help with either of those, but I will listen. And do my best to help you. Because you’re a damn good reason to try to be better - to be whole again.”

Steve could her the ‘click’ as Bucky closed the crib for the night so Sarah wouldn’t fall. 

“I love you, doll.” 

The sound of Sarah’s closing door made him aware that he was still staring at the half done sketch in front of him. It was clear that it showed the moment when Sarah had called Bucky ‘papa’. He had tried to capture her stubborn frown, trying to get his attention, and he was pretty sure he did a rather realistic rendering of Bucky’s shocked face. 

Where the women who witnessed all of this would have sat on the bench, a wet splotch appeared. 

With an inaudible laugh he wiped the tears away and flipped through his sketchbook until he found a page that wasn’t wet. There was no need for Bucky to know that he had listened to everything. 

And if later that evening, while they both sat on the couch, Bucky with a book he picked up on their last grocery run and Steve sketching him, Steve had to hand his best friend a tissue from time to time, he did so without a word. 

* * *

Steve went to bed late that night, as content as he could be, and nearly immediately fell asleep. If he grinned while he did so, nobody would ever know. 

* * *

He was woken up, just a few hours later, by something, that made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand straight. It took him a moment before he recognised the terrible sounds coming from the living room. 

Bucky had a nightmare.

A bad one. 

Within the blink of an eye, Steve had thrown away the covers and was on his way to wake his friend. 

It was strange seeing him in the throws of a nightmare for the first time in seven decades. He was straight as a plank, lying on the couch. He wasn’t moving - not really anyway. His legs were straight, his arms pressed to his sides and his face turned towards the ceiling. 

His eyes, however, twitched behind the lids, as did his fingers, forming tight fists with white knuckles before loosening up again. 

It was as if something was restraining him, holding him back from whatever was lashing out at him in his dreams. 

The picture would haunt Steve for the rest of his life, he just knew it. 

“No!”, he heard him moan and snapped back to reality. Steve had to find a way to wake him up. 

Bucky’s back arched upwards but still his limbs stayed perfectly where they were. 

He let out another scream that hit Steve right into the heart. 

“Sarah! No! No, no no-” Bucky broke out into sobs, tears running down his cheeks as Steve kneeled down beside him. 

“Buck, hey, wake up.” Steve wanted to touch him, shake him awake, but he wasn’t sure if he would only make it worse. Who knew what Bucky dreamed off? “Bucky, it’s m-” 

“NO! Sarah! Ste-” A scream interrupted what Steve knew would have been his name. 

“Come on, Bucky. I’m right here.” He reached for his best friend’s hand and interlaced their fingers. Steve wanted to do more, but he wasn’t sure if he could. “I’m here, Buck. And Sarah is in her room. She’s asleep. You tucked her in tonight, remember?” 

Bucky’s screams died down and what was left were soft whimpers and moans. 

“She called you ‘papa’ today. You were so happy,” Steve continued in a soft, hushed tone. “We’re both here and fine. So now you have to wake up and see for yourself that we’re okay.” 

With a gasp Bucky’s twitching stilled and slowly he blinked open his eyes.

When Steve finally saw them they were filled with horror. 

“Hey, Buck. You had a -” Steve couldn’t finish his sentence. 

Bucky, now consciously awake, jumped to his feet, nearly pushing Steve over and the process and made a run for the door. He quickly shoved his feet in a pair of tennis shoes and reached for a jacket Steve was sure was his, before he threw the door open and went outside.

* * *

Finding Bucky at 2am in the morning wasn’t the easiest thing, but Steve managed, a very confused toddler strapped to his chest. 

Sarah had been cranky when he woke her up, but he whispered to her the entire way until she had calmed down enough to lightly snooze and drool on his shirt. 

Steve was still in pyjamas. He just had grabbed Sarah and the first pair of shoes that crossed his way out of the door, before he ran after his friend. 

What had Bucky run? It was just a nightmare - Steve had them all the time as well - and Steve would never judge him for that. He just wanted to be there for him. 

When he walked passed the park, he noticed that the lock was broken. Someone must have forcibly opened it, and while the gate was shut close now, Steve would have bet that hadn’t been the case half an hour ago. 

Bucky sat on the bench in front of the swings, face buried in his hands. He didn’t look up when Steve sat down next to him. 

“How’d you find me?” he asked after a while, still not looking up. 

“Walked around until I saw the broken lock.” 

Bucky’s only response was a slight nod.

Even though the day had been rather hot, it cooled down rapidly as soon as the sun was gone and Steve was glad that he was warmer than most. This way Sarah and - if he sat close enough - Bucky wouldn’t get close. 

They remained silent for a while, Sarah asleep and blissfully unaware of the unasked questions that hung in the air between them. 

“They briefed me, You know?” Steve said suddenly. “When I came back from the ice.” 

Bucky looked up, slightly confused. 

Steve gave him a little smile before he continued to speak. He had a plan. “For a few weeks, every day from nine to five. Felt a bit like being back at school. Told me all about the big milestones of the last century. Even stuff that happened before I went into the ice as if I’m some idiot.” The thought still made him laugh. Yes, he knew about women’s suffrage, his mom had fought with them before she had him. “Taught me how to use their fancy gadgets - Stark still does that, whenever he gets the chance.” Steve chuckled. “They even asked me if they needed to do my grocery shopping for me because the prices were so inflated and they wanted me to get used to it slowly.”

When Steve abruptly grew silent, Bucky started to look worried. 

“But you know what no one was ever interested in?” Steve asked in a whisper, the sadness evident in his voice. 

To show him that he listened, Bucky shook his head. 

“How I felt about the little things,” he told him. “Sure, buying a weeks food for more than our shitty apartment cost a year was strange at first. But I understood. I mean we lived through a financial crisis before, so I know how these things work. The ice didn’t erase my memory.” Steve sighed. “What I didn’t understand was how they overlooked the most important question so easily.”

Steve paused again, but now Bucky looked at him with expectation, like he was going to reveal a big and carefully guarded secret. 

It made Steve want to laugh. How his smart and clever friend could be so stupid sometimes, was beyond him. And he knew that it had nothing to do with memory loss or such. Bucky had always been oblivious when it came to his importance in Steve’s life. 

“I had no idea, how I was supposed to do all of this without you.”

He had been right; Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise. Steve wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Couldn’t Bucky see how much he meant to him? Back in the day just as much as now, even though Steve just recently realised the depth of his feelings? 

“I mean before the war I always had you, my own safety net.” He grinned and even on Bucky’s lips, a small smile appeared. “Trouble at school? You’d sit down with me and get it in my head. Bored because I had to stay in bed sick? You’d sit next to me for hours. Freezing in winter? You’d be there, keeping me warm. Being beat up? You’d come to my rescue.” Steve chuckled at Bucky’s slightly blushed face. “Hell, even during the war. None of us would have made it out there without you.”

It was a horrible memory for Steve and he hadn’t even been the one falling from the train. Instead he had watched his best friend tumbling to the ground in slow motion, every single one of his movements branded into his mind. 

Until even his super soldier vision couldn’t see him anymore. 

And then he had crashed the Valkyrie into the Arctic, welcoming death like an old friend. 

“Being with you was natural,” he continued, “like breathing, not that I used to be good at that.” He wanted to get his mind off the horrible picture of a freight train in the Alps. But he couldn’t quite manage. 

It had been the beginning of the end, hadn’t it? Steve Rogers without his Bucky Barnes? That was just too strange for the universe to accept.

“And then I woke up an was stranded here, decades away from you and I was so angry -” Tears interrupted him and he wiped them away quickly before Bucky would see. But by the look in his eyes, he already had. 

“I was angry being cheated by death. I knew that I should be grateful that I was still alive but…” He didn’t know how to say it. Steve had already lost most of his life before he ‘died’. “Honestly? When that plane went down I was relieved. It meant we’d finally be together again.” Steve laughed at his own imagination. “I would see you again, my mom, maybe even finally get to know my dad. But I wasn’t allowed that peace of mind.”

He had been so naive then, thinking that after he had been given the gift of being Captain America there would be no price to pay. 

“When they briefed me and told me all of those things,” he whispered, “I imagined your commentary. How you’d love the new cars or smartphones or the movies they have now. And after they sent me home each night, I would just sit there and play out conversations in my head.” He laughed. No one who ever heard that laugh would think it was a happy memory. “I sat in my armchair or at the dinner table for hours, staring at the wall and talking to you. I tried to make you laugh,” he added with a smile before he fell into silence again. 

Only when Sarah moved against him, he knew what else to say - how to form words that were adequate for the messes in his heart and head that needed to be spilled. 

“I felt so alone, you know?” Steve asked, not waiting for an answer. “It was like no matter how many people I met or how often I let Stark bug me to go out, it wasn’t the same.” He looked around at the park. He had spent a lot of time here even before he had Sarah. Sometimes he would watch people and sketch, other times he would come here in the early morning for a run before the park filled with people. “I couldn’t even bring myself to refer to all of this as home. Because I would have rather called one of our yucky army tents home as long as you were there.”

Steve had the feeling Bucky wanted to say something but couldn’t. He understood. For the longest neither had he but now it was as if the gates had been opened and he had to let everything out for the first time. 

“That’s why I took in Sarah without a second thought. I would have, even without that signature,” he explained. “I just wanted to have someone who was there again, someone who was my home.” 

Sarah moved when he carefully stroked over her head. 

“And then I saw you, recognised you in that street and suddenly it made perfect sense why I didn’t die in that crash.” Yes, he had been confused at first, but in the grand scheme of things, how couldn’t it be like this? “Of course you would be here with me. There was no other way, nothing could keep us apart. It nearly killed me that you didn’t remember me, but I had Sarah and knowing that you were alive was enough for the moment, but you can never even fathom the relief I felt when I opened the door to find you standing there.”

They fell back into silence and then it was Bucky who spoke, the first time that night.

“I never realised that I mean so much to you,” he told him, surprise still evident in his voice. 

“You and Sarah mean everything to me, Buck.” 

“And the two of you mean everything to me, Steve. Even if I can’t remember everything yet, I can’t imagine something being more important. It’s just -” He stopped and the worried expression returned. 

“What is it?” 

“What if i mess up?” Bucky sighed and turned his gaze to Sarah. “What if I’m too ruined and it affects her?” 

Steve couldn’t help but smile. “Buck, her godfathers are a norse god, an overenthusiastic archer who eats too many donuts, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and a crazy genius who has to be reminded to sleep from time to time. And her godmother is the world’s most dangerous spy. I think the two of us are the most normal ones out of that bunch.”

“But I killed-” 

“And so have we Bucky. And we’re more responsible for the deaths we caused because we did it consciously.” Steve spoke faster, not giving Bucky the chance to blame himself again. “But what matters now is that you’re here for Sarah.”

Bucky nodded, but didn’t seem convinced. With a smile Steve stood and held out his hand for Bucky to get up as well. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say it, that I simply can’t imagine how you could be a bad parent to Sarah when all the time you’ve been  _ my  _ rock.” He squeezed his hand before he turned to leave the park. “Now you will just come home and be Sarah’s rock as well.”

With that the discussion was ended and they walked home. Together they went to put Sarah to bed again and watched her for a while. 

When Bucky turned back to the couch, Steve stopped him with a hand around his arm. “Buck, just for tonight, let us both take the bed. Let me help you fight the nightmares just like you used to do.”

Steve turned and went to the bedroom, giving Bucky the chance to simply ignore his request, but a moment later he could hear his footsteps coming closer. 

The mattress beside him dipped down before he could feel Bucky’s warm presence next to himself. 

They were quiet, neither of them falling asleep but caught up in their own thoughts. 

As the morning light started to filter through the curtains and Steve was just about to finally fall asleep, he could hear Bucky whisper next to him. 

“You didn’t buy the bear for Sarah.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it and are looking forward to next week - the grand finale! 
> 
> And I will go over the typos during the weekend. Because technically I have no time today, but I wanted to at least give you a chapter to read. 
> 
> Have a nice weekend! <3


	15. When the sun is asleep

“You didn’t buy the bear for Sarah.” 

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He knew that he had come close telling Bucky about his feelings earlier, but he had hoped his friend was too concerned about Sarah to detect it. 

“Did you?” he repeated the question, knowing that Steve could hear him. 

But it was Bucky, his best friend who deserved nothing but the truth. So with a sigh Steve gave in. “No, I didn’t.” He looked at Bucky’s frame next to him on the bed, barely visible even for his eyes. He wanted to turn on the night on his bedside table so he could see him in the lamp’s golden glow. “It’s just -” he started to try to explain. “When I saw the bear I felt a little bit closer to you. I mean, I missed you so much ever since I came back. I know it’s crazy but -” He chuckled. “And then Sarah got her hand on him and, just like with you, she wouldn’t let go of him anymore. Everyone thought it was cute.”

“No, it’s not. Crazy, I mean,” Bucky corrected himself quickly. 

But Steve would have understood either way. There was no person he knew that thought that Sarah was cute. 

“I get it,” Bucky continued. “It sounds stupid, but I always hoped to find a gal with a best friend that actually saw what a catch you are. Then it would be easier to keep spending our time together.”

Steve’s heart did a funny little jump in his chest. If he was honest, he had always hoped the same. If they got married to a couple of friends than they wouldn’t have to part. 

Now he knew it wasn’t just because he had known Bucky for most of his life and it would be strange if they didn’t see each other anymore, but because he loved him. 

Back then already. 

But instead of coming clear and tell him, Steve huffed a laugh. “Oh well, now I feel better suffering through all those double dates.” It felt awkward but when he heard his friend chuckle next to him, all was well. 

They were quiet for a while before Bucky voiced another thought. 

“Speaking of dating, how is it going?” He sounded unsure. 

Steve sighed. Gone was the conversation where revealing his feelings might have fit in. But if Bucky wanted to keep talking until they both fell asleep, he would play along. Even if it was about  _ dating _ . 

“I still hate it, but Nat won’t let it go, I guess.”

Steve felt Bucky shift under his blanket. “Oh.”

What did ‘oh’ mean? Did Bucky thought that Steve went out every week to meet girls and enjoyed it? He actually voiced his annoyance before. Or at least so he thought. 

Or did he want to go out as well? 

“Yeah, one would think it’s easier these days but it’s actually not,” Steve answered because he wasn’t sure what else to say. At least it was the truth. 

“What do you mean?” Now Bucky sounded interested. So maybe he actually wanted to go on dates? 

The funny little jump Steve’s heart did earlier turned into a faint ache. But if his friend wanted to know about dating - 

“I can’t really explain it. It’s just -” He sighed and turned towards Bucky. It was too dark for either of them to see more than the other’s silhouette but it was nicer than talking towards the ceiling. “So you’re technically allowed to date anyone, right? Men and women alike. But at the same time everyone had their own expectations about dates and when to take the next step and they don’t tell you.” He laughed a little before he continued. “I don’t know how they manage. It’s great that they’re this free to love, I just can’t handle it.”   
For a while Bucky was quiet as if he let the new information seep in. 

“So you don’t mind … if two men?” he eventually asked. 

“God, no! Why would I?”

“I just googled a few things and there were those books-”

With an annoyed groan Steve threw his arm over his eyes. He hated those damn books. “I know,” he sighed. “I tried to sue, but apparently it’s the authors right to express himself. And I would be a damn hypocrite too, if I was against it,” he added quickly to at least break down the steps he had to take towards telling Bucky the entire truth. 

But if Bucky knew that Steve was also attracted to men, then it wouldn't come as much of a shock when he told him he fell in love with him decades ago, right? 

“What do you mean? I thought… And Peggy -” Bucky sounded genuinely surprised. 

“I mean yes, I really liked her, and she is stunning, but it would have never worked out.” It was still a fond memory though. Peggy was great - even today when she had her fuzzy moments - and for a while he had thought it would work out between them. 

But then everyone had, even the history books and horrible radio shows. 

When Bucky finally answered he sounded confused. “Why? You guys got along great. Sure, you would have fought all the time about something stupid you would do -”

“Buck!” Steve interrupted him. Not that he wasn’t telling the truth, but the real issue was so far from what his friend thought. “I said that, because I think it’s hard to commit to someone, if you’re in love with someone else.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

It was suddenly quiet in the room. All Steve could hear was the sound of Brooklyn’s streets that were never entirely abandoned and Bucky. His breathing was even, but his heart seemed to beat a little faster than normal. 

Before Steve could ask if he was okay, Bucky threw away the blanket and stood. 

Steve grabbed his wrist and held him in place. “Where are you going?” 

“I should probably get back to the couch and let you catch a couple of hours of sleep.”

With a confused from, which Bucky couldn’t see, he let go of his friend. 

“But you’re -” Steve whispered. “You don’t have a problem with me being also interested in men, don’t you?”   
If he was honest with himself, Steve felt disappointed. Back in the forties, when it had been illegal, Bucky never said anything about the queer folk. In fact, he often said they should be left alone to just do their thing.

And now he had a problem with it? 

“God, no, Steve! I could never!” 

Steve wanted to cry from relief. He could never live with the fact that Bucky - the only other person in his life aside from Sarah, who’s opinion meant anything to him - was repelled by such an integral part of him. 

“Then stay here. We always used to share beds.” It was sheer impossible to keep his voice from sounding hopeful. 

Bucky didn’t answer immediately. Instead he watched Steve sitting up in bed and holding back the covers for him. 

He sighed before he whispered: “I know it’s just that I feel terrible.”

Steve smiled and even though it was dark in the bedroom he could Bucky shift his weigh towards the bed again. Just as if he really wanted to come back. It gave him hope. “Buck, it’s just me,” he reminded him. “You don’t need to feel terrible about anything.”

“That’s the problem. It’s  _ you _ .” 

Steve was shocked. He had always thought he managed to make Bucky at least comfortable around- 

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant,” Bucky interrupted his thoughts. “I just - I mean - And seventy years ago it was -” 

_ ‘Seventy years ago it was’  _ and Steve was the  _ problem _ ? Did that mean? 

“Bucky?” He switched on the light on the bedside table so he could finally see his friend. 

Bucky stood in front of the bed, hands clenched tightly together and fingers fidgeting. His cheeks were covered in a deep red blush. 

He looked amazing in his sweatpants and shirt, the lamp’s golden light reflected by the metal plates of his arm.

“Yes?” He murmured without looking at Steve. 

Steve was amazed to see his friend like this. He looked shy? 

But Steve wasn’t Steve if he wouldn’t take a risk when he thought it was worth it. 

His heart beating fast enough to feel like it wanted to pound his way out of his ribcage, Steve freed himself from the blankets. He shifted until he kneeled in front of Bucky on the bed. Carefully he held is hands out so Bucky would see that Steve was about to touch him. With slow movements, he placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders. It took a moment before Bucky was finally able to look into his eyes. 

“May I kiss you?” 

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock, but he nodded. 

He ducked his head in to meet Steve halfway and this gave Steve the courage he needed to rise up on his knees, hands cupping Bucky’s face. Bucky’s hands wound their way around his chest to pull him closer. 

Steve’s head started to spin. He was so close and that rose blush on Bucky’s cheeks - 

He wanted to keep his eyes open, he really tried to, but the sensation when their lips finally met was just too much. 

First there was just the physical feeling of Bucky’s lips carefully touching his as if Steve would bust under too much pressure - and regarding how high strung his body felt, it could be true. 

There were Bucky’s big hands on his ribs, gripping only a little bit tighter - one warm and just on the right side of soft; the other cold and hard. It was a fascinating situation and if there would have been any room for straying thoughts in Steve’s head, he might have imagined his hand in other places. 

Bucky’s hair fell forward, the strands tickling Steve’s chin and the tips of his fingers and when Bucky didn’t end the kiss, he carefully entangled them with the brown locks. 

They were just so soft and Steve had waited nearly a century to touch them. 

When Steve pulled Bucky’s hair just a little bit - it was more of an accident than intentional - Bucky moaned and opened his lips just enough for Steve’s tongue to slip in. 

It was strange - Steve had never kissed someone like this, much less noticed the things he uber-aware of now. 

Bucky tasted so  _ familiar _ . 

There was Sarah’s mashed dinner lingering - Bucky had tried it to see if it was too hot - mixed with their own and underneath there was something that was just Bucky. Steve had never tasted it before, but he would have known it anywhere in an instant. 

It was  _ home _ . 

And Bucky reciprocated; his tongue met Steve’s in an amicable fight for personal space. Both of them longed to be as close to the other as possible. 

Bucky’s wrapped his right arm around Steve, anchoring them together. 

Steve pulled Bucky’s hair a bit more, tilting his head to give him better access to his mouth. He pressed his chest against his best friend, seeking the body heat he always radiated an which he had re-familiarised himself over the last few months. The hand that wasn’t twisted in Bucky’s hair wandered down to rest on the small of his back; to pull him closer. 

The force Steve used to pull him in was underestimated and with a surprised gasp, Bucky lost his balance.

They toppled over and Bucky landed on top of Steve on the bed, forcing the breath out of his lungs. It took them a moment to regain the focus of where they were and what just happened until Bucky was able to look at Steve. 

“I am so sorry,” Steve murmured, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks under his best friend’s gaze.

“Don’t be.” Bucky sounded just as embarrassed as Steve felt. He rolled off from top of him and rested on the covers, facing Steve. “I liked it.” 

“Yeah, me too.” He smiled at Bucky. “I always wanted to do that.” It slipped his mind before he could stop the words. 

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did?”

Steve averted his eyes. Now the secret was out and while Bucky didn’t seem appalled by him, it still made Steve uncomfortable. 

“Steve.” Bucky’s pleading tone made him look up again. His friend looked worried. 

With a sigh he relented. “I think I wanted to do that ever since I have been fourteen.” 

In a near silent gasp, Bucky’s lips opened. “That long?” 

Steve barely had the time to nod, before Bucky’s body was pressed flush against his once more. He drew him in with his metal arm around Steve’s lower waist, his right hand making his way into Steve’s hair. 

It was exhilarating that Bucky wanted him, too. And just as desperately. 

“I’ve wanted that ever since the day at the beach,” Bucky confessed and Steve was sure that, at least for the moment, he had left this plane of existence. He remembered everything about that special day but never he would have thought - 

“Can I kiss you gain?” Bucky asked, interrupting his thoughts. 

In a sort of answer, Steve crushed his lips to Bucky’s, pressing harder into his friend’s licking carefully with his tongue to make him open up. He wanted to taste him again; he wanted to taste him everywhere. 

With that thought in mind, Steve lips started to wander. 

While his free hand dug into Bucky’s hip to hold him close, he kissed over to his cheek, the prominent bone of his jaw and all the way to the sensitive skin behind his ear. Steve grinned when Bucky tilted his head to give him more room and scooted closer to him on the bed. 

Feeling reassured, Steve placed a little bite further down onto Bucky’s neck, right in the dip above his shoulder. 

The moan it drew from him, sent a pleasant shiver down Steve’s spine. 

He wanted to move further down, but the fabric of Bucky’s sleeping shirt got in the way. With an annoyed grunt he tore away his lips from Bucky’s skin. 

“Can I take that off?” Steve was surprised to hear the words fall from his lips before he even thought them, and maybe even more so that Bucky immediately nodded and began to lift himself from the bed to make it easier on Steve. 

The shirt was gone but when Steve wanted to return to place kisses all over Bucky, he stopped him. “Yours too.” 

It felt different as soon as they were skin to skin. 

The scars Bucky now carried made his skin rough to the touch, but it also gave Steve a path to follow with his lips. At the first contact with the extensive scar tissue around his shoulder, Bucky stiffened. Steve thought that maybe he would draw away from him, but he stayed, frozen in his place underneath Steve. 

His fingers trailing over him first, Steve took in the image in front of him. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, tracing the scars on Bucky’s shoulder. “I want to draw you.” 

Bucky smiled. “But you draw me all the time.” 

Steve shook his head. “But not like this.” Not in this intimate way that Steve hoped no one else would ever get to see. 

Bucky pushed a strand back that had fallen over Steve’s eyes before he whispered: “then what would you want to draw?”

With a smile Steve lifted his fingers to touch Bucky hair. “I want to capture how your hair looks spread out on my pillow, catching the light from the lamp on the bedside table.” He continued the path with his fingers, resting them against Bucky’s temple. “The colour of your eyes and how they light up for me.” He placed a kiss where his fingers had been only a second earlier. “Then there’s this half-smile you only ever smile for me. I’d love to immortalise it on paper, able to look at it all the time.”

“You just have to ask Stevie,” Bucky answered, awarding him with said smile. 

After another quick kiss, Steve’s fingers continued their journey on Bucky’s neck. “I want to draw that little love bite that’s forming here. It’s not going to stay long on your skin, but on paper it would never fade.

“I want to draw the shadows the light paints on your chest and arms, that, when they wrap around me, feel like home. Like they always did, no matter what time or circumstance.”

When Steve’s traced the scars on his shoulder, Bucky stilled and his eyes became overshadowed with worry. 

“I want to trace these with my pencil, showing all the world how brave you are, how resilient to survive what they’ve done to you only to come back to be my and Sarah’s home. The world only sees that part of you,” he told him, touching the red star on his metal arm. “This is the physically strong part, that would protect us from harm and then there’s that other part of you, that is soft and nurturing, making sure that Sarah and I are okay.” Steve placed kisses on both arms and when he looked into Bucky’s eyes again, the doubts were gone. 

“I want to draw this,” Steve whispered, tracing the hairs on Bucky’s abdomen that painted a trail down to where his erection strained against the material of his sweats. They disappeared underneath the hem, taunting Steve. 

Relieving him from his agony, Bucky lifted his hips and pushed the pants down, freeing his erection. 

Steve helped even though his focus was captured by the beauty he hadn’t seen before. 

Throwing the sweats somewhere over his shoulder, Steve leaned forward to kiss the bone of Bucky’s hip that was like a lighthouse to Steve - calling him home and guiding him along his way. 

His lips wandered down to Bucky’s thighs, nibbling and kissing. “I want to draw these how I imagine them wrapped around me.” 

Bucky gasped, tilting his pelvis upward to get Steve to touch his cock, but Steve wouldn’t make it that easy on him. He had to take in the masterpiece that was spread out in front of him. 

“I want to draw those,” he whispered, kissing along Bucky’s calves, “how they’re resting on my shoulders -”

“Steve, please. I want you in me.”   
Shocked at the blunt statement, Steve shifted his weight up to his arms, allowing him to take in Bucky’s beautiful face. It was flushed, and his red cheeks made the sparkle in his eyes even more prominent; his hair was tousled and spread out over the pillow; his lips red and swollen from Steve’s kisses and bites. 

“Bucky, are you sure?” 

What he couldn’t see was doubt. But he had to ask at least.

“Yes, Steve, I’m sure. I trust you and I know that you won’t hurt me.” 

The amount of confidence in Bucky’s words blew Steve’s mind. After all that he had been through, he still was willing to give himself over into Steve’s hands, convinced that nothing would hurt him. 

Tears welled up in Steve’s eyes. How could he have been so blind? It had always been there for him to see and he had just been too blind. 

With a smile he leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on Bucky’s lips, entirely different from those that they had shared before. It was soft and careful and Steve tried to fill it with all the emotions his chest only barely seemed to hold. 

When a single tear slipped down his cheek, he parted from Bucky to look into his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“Oh, Stevie,” Bucky gasped, his eyes shining. “I love you, too. I always have.” 

As if these words whisked all of Steve’s doubts from his mind, he leaned down to kiss Bucky once again. While their lips pushed to get as close to each other as possible, Steve blindly reached for a bottle of baby oil that had been forgotten on the nightstand ages ago. 

Bucky reached for the hem of Steve’s sweats, pushing them down over his hips to free the erection that was straining against the soft material. When his fingers came in contact with the sensitive skin, Steve moaned and twitches, not able to control himself. 

He could feel Bucky grin against his lips. 

In a swift move, Steve rolled them onto their sides, pulling Bucky’s leg over his hip to have better access to his fantastic ass. It caused Bucky to loosen his grip, allowing Steve to concentrate. 

With oil slicked fingers he made his way down Bucky’s side, over the curve of his hip, the trace he left glistening in the light of the bedside lamp. He continued down between the cheeks until he felt the coarse hole. 

When he rubbed over it, Bucky squirmed against him. 

Steve wanted to withdraw his fingers but Bucky, who apparently read his mind, reached behind his back and held Steve’s hand in place. He took it as a silent command to move forward.

Gently he pushed his index beyond the tight ring of muscle. Bucky was hot and tight and the thought of his cock being in there, nearly made him lose his head. 

Steve stilled his finger, allowing Bucky to get used to the sensation. He only started to move when Bucky pushed back against him with a pleading moan. 

“Steve,” he begged, leaving Steve no other choice than to carefully add a second finger. If he was afraid that it was too much, that he would hurt Bucky, he was proven wrong by the erotic sounds that fell from his best friend’s - his lover’s - lips. He pushed them in far as he could, gently moving in and out to stimulate and when he twisted his wrist slightly, Bucky’s hips twitched upwards. 

“Do that again,” he ordered and curious, Steve did as he was told. He rotated his wrist and scissored his fingers open, watching as the blush from Bucky’s cheeks spread farther down and his hips rotated - chasing the sensation of Steve’s fingers and trying to find some friction against his cock. 

Pushing his hip forward, Bucky thrusted his cock against Steve’s, who had to bite his lip from moaning out loud. The combination of a naked Bucky in the throws of passion in front of him and actual skin contact with the promise of a soon relief was too much for him to bear. 

As if he wanted to distract Bucky, he withdrew his fingers, only to push back in with an added third one. Bucky screamed, his fingers digging into Steve’s shoulders, words Steve couldn’t surrounding them in the lowly lit bedroom.

“Steve, please. I want you to fuck me,” he begged, desperately clawing at Steve’s skin. “Now!” He thrust his hips forward again and their cocks aligning was too much for Steve. 

He knew that if he wanted to come inside of Bucky, he had to hurry. 

Again, Steve shifted them around, this time placing Bucky beneath him, settling in between his legs. 

“Are you sure.” 

Bucky gave him that smile he loved so much, the one that was all his. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.” He lifted himself onto his elbows, placing a kiss to Steve’s lips. “And now hurry.” 

When Steve leaned down to kiss him again, Bucky emphasised his point by wrapping his hand around Steve’s cock. The pre-come at the tip made it easy for his hand to glide over the skin and when he fastened his grip Steve had to rest his head against Bucky’s. 

“Okay, okay,” he murmured, signalling his defeat. 

He reached for the oil again, slicking himself up best as he could before he pushed Bucky’s leg up. The way Bucky looked before him, open and ready, the emotion shining from his eyes, was as if someone brought him a sacrifice. 

And Steve wanted to devour it for the rest of his days. 

He pushed in slowly, the tight heat welcoming him, taunting him to just shove himself home to the base of his cock and Steve had to clench his teeth in concentration to not give in to the sensation. 

Allowing Bucky to get used to him, he waited, passed the time by kissing Bucky’s shoulder, nipping on the soft flesh where his neck met his shoulder. And only when Bucky started to squirm and arch upwards against him, Steve moved. 

He withdrew until the head of his cock pulled against the tight ring of muscles, threatening to leave entirely, before he thrust back in. 

Bucky moaned in unison with him, their names mixing with their breath. 

Steve withdrew again, slowly and if he couldn’t take it anymore, Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve’s hips, pulling him in again.

It replayed, over and over again, pulling and pushing, sweat on their skins making it easier for them to glide against each other. Urged by his lover, Steve went faster and faster, his kisses turned sloppy until there was no room for anything else but the sensation of Bucky all around him. 

He knew he was close, too close for his liking. If it were for him he would continue to fuck Bucky until the end of their days, but his body had other plans. 

Balancing his weight on one arm, his thrusts not wavering in their fast rhythm, Steve reached for Bucky’s erection, stroking him. 

Bucky arched his back, the sensation to much for him and like a revelation in front of Steve he came. It looked so beautiful; hair spread out on Steve’s pillow, head thrown back, eyes shut close and lips open in a silent moan. He spilled over Steve’s hand and his own abdomen, the wetness making it easier for Steve to guide him through the last waves of his orgasm. 

The picture in front of him and how Bucky contracted around him were what pushed Steve over the edge himself. With a hoarse cry he came, his hips stuttering, not able to keep up their pace. He had to loosen his hand from Bucky’s spent cock, to not collapse while he rode out his own release. 

He only stopped when he felt too sensitive to move any longer, allowing himself to loosen his muscles and fall down on top of the love of his life. 

They both breathed heavily, their panting breaths mixing in attempted kisses and whispered confessions of love. 

With a final kiss, Steve withdrew himself from Bucky’s body, watching his friend pout. He got up to get a washcloth from the bathroom, allowing Bucky to stay in bed while he cleaned up the mess they made. 

Only then he returned to bed, drawing the covers over their body’s, waiting for Bucky to wrap himself around him once again. 

It was a pleasant sort of exhaustion that overcame them. 

They were wrapped up in each other’s arms, Bucky’s head tucked underneath Steve’s chin. 

It was getting light outside already and if he wanted to go for his morning run, Steve probably should get up soon. 

But honestly? He could see no valid reason why he should move now. His run wasn’t that important; he could do that every day.

What was special was holding Bucky as close to him as possible, war skin against warm skin. They could get up together in a while when Sarah woke up, demanding attention and breakfast.

And until then, nothing would move him out of the bed. He would continue to let his hands wander over Bucky’s skin, whispering how much he loved him over and over again. 

“We should have done this decades ago,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s neck, his breath tickling the sensible skin. 

“Mh,” Steve huffed. “I don’t think my asthmatic lungs could have taken you back then.” He grinned at his own stupid pun, eyes closed. Steve only opened them when Bucky lifted his head.

He looked down at him with that annoyed frown and Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

When Bucky eventually joined him, his chest ached with the feelings it had to contain. And he was sure that loving Bucky any more than he did now would most definitely kill him - Asthma or not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We did it guys! They confessed their love.
> 
> So, this was the last chapter-chapter, next week there will be the epilogue and, if I can make it work with my busy schedule, the prequel.   
I'm sorry if there are mistakes in this chapter. I had to squeeze the writing in between everything else and I have no beta to keep me in check. I hope you still liked it though; it's been the longest chapter in this story. I will try to go over it again when I have half an hour to spare over the next couple of day - until then I wanted you to have something to read.


	16. The Happy not-quite-Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not the ending of a story, but the ending of a chapter in the lives of Bucky and Steve and Sarah.

After that, nothing changed. Yet at the same time, everything was different. 

But just slightly. 

They didn’t alternate their sleeping place any longer. Bucky moved into Steve’s bedroom and into his arms and there’s that. 

Steve was no longer afraid to ask if he could hold Bucky when he was woken up by desperate cries. He just opened his arms, leaving the decision to Bucky. 

Sometimes all Bucky wanted to do was bury his head against Steve’s neck and let the familiar scent calm him down. Other times, when he couldn’t stand being caged by Steve’s arms they just laid in bed next to each other, holding hands. 

It was another little change Steve welcomed with all his heart - they were touching nearly all the time now; a brush of hands when they moved alongside each other in the kitchen, bumping their hips while they brushed their teeth or simply holding hands when they went out. 

Holding hands had quickly become Steve’s favourite change. There were moments, in the middle of the cereal aisle, when he looked down at their joined hands and had to smile. It made him giddy with excitement that finally, after nearly a century, he could do that. 

When Bucky noticed him smiling at their hands, he would roll his eyes or call Steve a sap. He might have felt bad about it, but the moment Bucky thought Steve had forgotten he would lift their hands to his lips and place a little kiss on them. 

For Sarah the changes were even less noticeable. The only thing that seemed to annoy her was that she often had to interrupt her fathers kissing or staring at each other to get their attention. But it was a change she quickly got used to. In fact, she even learned how to tell them to not kiss but look at her instead. 

It was hilarious. 

The Avengers had quite the range of reactions, all a bit different. 

Natasha just nodded, pleased with herself when she found them scrambling up from the couch, their clothes in disarray. She had, like always, just barged in, finding them both in a state, unsuitable for visitors. 

And of course she tried to stop setting Steve up with women she knew. 

Clint was just as nonchalant as the Widow. 

Steve wasn’t sure if she had told him before, but he came to visit after a mission, nose broken, and over dinner asked them if they maybe wanted to drop by the farm sometimes. The kids could play while the adults had a glass of wine and time to chat. 

Who knows, maybe he hadn’t even fully noticed yet. 

Bruce’s reaction was an ‘oh’ when they passed each other in a hallway of the Avengers’ Tower. Bucky and Steve had been holding hands and the scientist, though being surprised at the beginning, never brought it up again. 

Thor, who discovered it through Tony, was delighted and congratulated them so loud, that Steve was sure entire Manhattan heard it. He offered them a whole crate of mead to celebrate their ‘upcoming bonding ceremony’. With that he made Steve blush and stutter, while Bucky only smirked. 

“I thought we were friends!”, was Tony’s reaction. “Stop  _ not _ telling me things!”

He pouted for an entire week until Pepper put an end to it. 

She had approached Steve, asking if he wanted to make public that he was in a relationship with another man. Tony, who had been in the kitchen of Bucky’s and Steve’s apartment overheard it. 

“Sure,  _ now _ that Tony kows, let us tell the entire world.” 

“Oh, would you shut up?” Pepper had this special, angry glare, that was reserved for Tony and he immediately looked guilty. “Just because Steve didn’t come running to tell you the news, doesn’t mean you’re not friends any longer.” 

The three men who witnessed her chiding all grew quiet. Tony was so shocked that he didn’t dare say a word. He only nodded and apologized for being childish. 

With that, they all had to view the issue as resolved and Pepper returned to Steve to continue their earlier conversation. 

Steve agreed on a press conference - in D.C., far away from his Brooklyn neighbourhood - and addressed the topic of his sexuality. He explained that he decided to make it public because he wanted to support those who suffered because of their sexuality. 

The response was astonishing. 

While he tried to focus on the positive feedback he received, there was no way around the critics. He could deal with those that told him he would have belonged in jail, that he was disgusting or that he should resign as Captain America because he no longer resembled ‘America’s values’. The last one nearly made him lose his temper, but Bucky showed him a post by a young girl, who finally had the courage to come out to her family and friends, and he calmed down. 

The worst insult was that some people called it a fake. They said he wasn’t really gay or bisexual or whatever, but infact straight, and only used the topic for PR reasons. To smooth over everything that happened with Shield and Hydra, that smudged his image. 

When he read the article, he wanted to tell everyone that he had always been in love with his best friend, had been sexually attracted to him ever since he was fourteen and that nothing could ever make him ashamed of loving someone who deserved it as much as Bucky.. 

Pepper reasoned with him. They were still working on getting the charges against Bucky dropped and couldn’t risk letting everyone know that he was, in fact, in New York and not hiding in a bunker in Siberia. 

The problem was that there was barely any evidence that showed the extent to which he had been brainwashed and controlled by others. There were Shield/Hydra files that hinted at what happened but since there was nothing to compare Bucky’s case to, progress was slow. They couldn’t bring Bruce in, as a testifying doctor because he was neither a real psychologist, nor deemed neutral. 

And bringing in another therapist, that first had to talk to Bucky and assess his mind, was just too risky at that stage. They couldn’t trust that they would give up the information to someone else. 

But Pepper had an entire legal team working on the case, making a little bit of progress every day. 

When they celebrated Sarah’s third birthday the chances were good that Bucky, provided that he saw a therapist regularly and the Avengers took care of eventual relapses, would be declared a free man in most of the western world. It allowed them to hope. 

Bucky started seeing a trusted therapist almost immediately. Sam had found someone with an army past and slight distaste for intelligence agencies. 

Bucky also started to train again; sparring with Steve and Natasha, shooting contests with Clint and ‘who can reassemble this weapon faster’ races with Tony. 

Day by day Steve saw and felt the progress he made. It was obvious to him in the way Bucky started to smile wider - and not only for Sarah and Steve - laughed more often or eased up in crowded places. He noticed it in the nightmares that now appeared less and less frequent or hard. 

With time they would eventually fade to nearly nonexistent. 

The more time passed, the more Steve and Bucky grew as a couple. They had always done everything together, so that part wasn’t new, but they learned to talk more openly about their feelings and what they wanted. 

And - among other things that changed in their life as a family - they watched Sarah grow up. They celebrated together; Christmases, birthdays and the achievements she made all the time. 

When she told them the first time that their frequent kissing was annoying, they shared a good laugh. For the weeks to come, whenever they kissed, at least one of them had to think about her, dressed in reindeer pyjamas, braids in her hair and her tiny little fists on her hip, glaring at them. 

They were good weeks, even though with all the grinning, the kisses ended up to be rather teethy. 

When the first mission came along that required all of the Avengers, Bucky refused to stay at home. Instead he raided Natasha’s weapons cabinet and stole some armor prototype from Tony’s lab. The former only shrugged her shoulders and let him sit down next to her on the jet while the latter sighed and, upon their return, designed something special for Bucky himself. 

Steve tried to argue that it was safer if at least one of them stayed at home with Sarah but the glared that earned him, made him shut up. He knew there was no use in talking when Bucky set his mind to something and even less if  _ ‘something’ _ was protecting Steve. 

To the broad public there were still the original six Avengers plus a few that had come along the way. And if there was some unknown sniper, watching Captain America’s back and cleaning up Hydra goons along the way, then no one questions it. In fact, they’re glad that someone’s looking out for their hero. 

At first they had picked up a pair of enhanced twins that Bucky sort of adopted and that now frequently hung around their apartment to eat pizza or cook. They were also great babysitters for Sarah whenever Bucky and Steve needed an evening to themselves. 

Sam joined them eventually when a mission needed more air support than Tony and Rhodes could provide, and he showed up with a set of wings. 

Steve had been speechless, Bucky insisted on calling him ‘birdbrain’ and Tony had a nervous breakdown because every day there seemed to be someone in desperate need of an upgrade (and yes, that included Sarah’s suit which, instead of anything dangerous, shot bubbles from her palms). 

Then there was the experiment-gone-wrong Vision, who turned out to be okay even though he didn’t quite understand the rules of social encounters. 

After a few years, there was that boy from Queens with impressive strength and missing the father figure in his life that Tony loved to take on. Within a week of meeting him Tony had come over to seek advice from Steve and Bucky (and probably Clint as well) on how to handle ‘the kid’, twice. 

His constant worry was a joy to watch for Steve. 

Bucky, who was eventually declared innocent and a POW, never made the official list. 

Some of course had their suspicions, especially after pictures were leaked of Bucky and Steve kissing at an Avengers’ party, but no one ever addressed it. They finally accepted that Steve wouldn’t bend to their wishes and with his assassin past, no one dared to ask Bucky himself. 

And with the team growing they were on a mission roaster anyway, which meant that they weren’t away as often as they used to be. It left them enough time for family. 

* * *

The day where this part of our story ends, dawned with one of the most beautiful sunrises Brooklyn had seen in a long time. 

Sarah had spent the night at Tony’s new place, being spoiled by her auntie and uncle. So in the morning Bucky was free to join Steve on his run. 

With their super soldier stamina they made their way to the Brooklyn bridge to watch the sunset over the water, arms around each other as they the ships passed by. When they returned home they showered together, gentle touches and careful kisses. 

The sunset was even more beautiful. 

Again they watched it in each others arms, this time surrounded, not by strangers, but by their friends and family. 

“It’s been a great day,” Bucky murmured, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder, a soft smile on his lips. 

“The best,” Steve agreed and pulled away just enough to kiss Bucky’s lips. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Bucky grinned when their lips parted, amused by the shocked expression on Steve’s face. 

“How can you not think this was the most wonderful day in our lives?” Steve couldn’t believe what Bucky said. 

Bucky smirked. “Well, there are so many days to choose from, dontcha think, punk?” 

“Well, until half a minute ago it was the best day of  _ my _ life, jerk,” he answered. That Bucky still grinned was the only reason that Steve hadn’t turned around in hurt anger yet. He knew that he just wanted to tease him. 

“But think about the day when I beat up that third grader for you. If that never happened, then maybe we weren’t here.” 

Steve sighed with relief and the smile returned to his lips. 

“Then there was the day at the beach when I realised that I love you and probably ever will,” he continued and Steve pulled him back into his arms. “We could also choose from nearly every day with Sarah that did  _ not _ start with a tantrum.” 

Both of them laughed at that. 

“You know, for scaring me like that, you can have  _ the  _ talk with Sarah when she’s old enough,” Steve told him and watched in delight as Bucky’s eyes grew wide. 

“I thought we were getting Natasha to do it?”

Steve looked over the tables they had assembled in a corner of Prospect Park Tony had reserved for them today. There were long tables with the buffet and the smaller round ones where the guests were seated. All was nicely decorated with flowers and fairy lights. 

They turned towards the grooms’ table, where Nat just showed Sarah how to wield a knife properly. Obviously they used Sarah’s plastic kitchen knives, so Steve wasn’t worried - not about injuries at least - when they began stabbing leftover cake. 

“I think when Natasha talks about blood it’s a different kind.”

Bucky snickered and pulled Steve closer. “You could be right on that.”

With Bucky in his arms again, Steve gently began to sway to the music again. He still wasn’t the best at dancing, but for Bucky he would try.

“So I can’t get you to do it?” he asked after a while. 

“We could always do it together. Being husbands and everything,” Bucky answered, looking up. 

Steve grinned, like a lovesick fool probably, but it was his wedding day, so everyone could go and mind their own business. “You know what?” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s - his husband’s - mouth before he continued. “I really like the sound of that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the epilogue. It's a bit shorter than the other chapters, but I hope you don't mind too much. 
> 
> First - I hope you really liked it? 
> 
> Second - thank you for everyone who made it to this point. I still can't believe we made it this far. Thank you for keeping me cheerful and positive with all your lovely comments and kudos. Without that, we would be still somewhere around chapter 8.
> 
> Third - if you really, really liked it then you might remember that I talked about making this into a series. I have the prequel more or less finished but with essays to write and exams to prepare, I don't know yet when I will have the time to finish it. I want to try posting it this weekend or next week, Friday the latest. And, there will be something around for Christmas. For some of those who bombarded me with a certain question, you might want to read that. It's important. 
> 
> If I don't see you again for Christmas, I want to thank you again, wish you lovely holidays and a smooth transition in a new decade with everything that you love. I'll be around.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hoped you liked it and maybe could relax for a few minutes. 
> 
> If there is anything wrong with the baby stuff, please excuse me. I'm not a mom yet and my knowledge is based on pinterest lists.


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